


for whatever it's worth

by nabrina



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Romance, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gendry is a Seaworth, Happy Ending, In which Arya is stubborn and for good reason, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Shoutout to Ned for being the perfect filler ex-bf, and Davos is adorable and very sweet (if not a little clueless)!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-22
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-12-28 07:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21132626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nabrina/pseuds/nabrina
Summary: Davos has been trying to set Arya up with his adoptive son for months and despite her polite refusals, he can’t seem to get the hint. Arya doesn’t date.Shenanigans ensue as Davos persistently attempts to set Arya and his son up, all as she navigates the world as a newly single woman and maybe meets a hot bartender whom she dubs the Bull.





	1. my misery is holding me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Sorry for the sudden, unexplained absence. Personal life kinda kicked my ass for a while there and my primary focus was keeping my head on straight. However, I stumbled across a prompt that very much tickled my fancy and I couldn’t not. After months of wanting to write a modern Gendrya fic, this was too good to pass up. 
> 
> Sorry Ned, for being the wonderful place holder ex that you are as always, you are invaluable. Good luck to anyone who tries to figure out what Arya and Davos do for work, because I sure as hell don’t know. And as for the maths surrounding Davos’ age, his children’s and how that relates to Gendry being adopted – there's a reason I don’t do numbers. 
> 
> Please enjoy! And I promise stay or go will return soon.

It hadn’t been easy to tell her family or their friends. The fact that it wasn’t either of their faults, not really, was little consolation. After three years of family dinners, Arya’s mother gushing over how utterly perfect a couple they were to Ned’s mother, and double dates with Sansa they were _ all _surprised. As was she when she found herself packing up her things in an apartment they’d only just moved into, just to go back to her old place. 

Everyone, of course, had their own opinion on what moving on meant for her. 

Her mother saw it as frequent phone calls ( “Just to check in, my love!”) , Sansa suggested movie nights which were admittedly far nicer now that they actually got along, and Jon tried to avoid the topic entirely. It made the first few weeks bearable, between the inevitable crying and nights spent bundled beneath thick blankets. 

But life moved on and she had to do the same, or else be left behind. So, it was with a stubborn set to her shoulders and jaw that she sat up one morning and decided that enough was enough. She _ was _moving on. 

Davos seemed inclined to agree, for better or worse. 

* * *

“Have I told you about my boy Gendry?” Davos asked, his tone innocent enough as he leaned against the doorway to his office. 

It was week four of being unexpectedly single and she’d done well to avoid any romantic talk – a rather extraordinary feat given Robb’s own romcom come true and the intensifying relationship between Jon and his co-worker. 

“Is he the lawyer?” Arya asked, her brows furrowed as she sought out a pen. 

Though she’d only met three of the eight Seaworth children, she knew _ of _ the rest – though vaguely and not to the degree that she could repeat stories she’d been told or attribute names to occupations. In her defence, he had _ eight _children. She could barely remember her own extended family and their various goings on, she couldn’t be expected to remember which of Davos’ children had just had another baby or who hated whom. 

She was his assistant, _ not _his wife. 

“No, no. Gendry is our youngest.” Davos wheeled a chair over so he could sit next to Arya, “The mechanic.” 

“Oh, right.” 

“That’s his day job, though. He works a couple of side gigs, insists that he’s fine paying his own way.” 

Arya grinned as she found what she was looking for and tucked the pen behind her ear, “More than one job? Sounds... hardworking.” 

“His mother says he’s stubborn, which I’m not inclined to disagree with.” 

“Guess he won’t hear a word in edgewise?” 

“Precisely. Not unlike another person I know.” Davos began, before adding after a sharp look from Arya, “And love.” 

She snorted at that and shook her head, “Nice save.” 

“Thank you.” He smiled, “I mean what I said though, he’s quite a bit like you.” 

“Oh?” Arya raised an eyebrow, “I’m going to assume that’s a compliment.” 

He laughed, “Of course it is.” Then he added, “He’s a real family man and passionate too. You’d get on like a house on fire.” 

“Really?” She moved her mouse and clicked twice, sighing in relief as her computer sprung to life, then looked to Davos, “I’ve worked with you for how long? Yet, you’re only just mentioning him? Might I ask, why?” 

“Well,” he began slowly, “Circumstances have changed.” 

Arya became acutely aware of how Davos was looking at her and suddenly it made _ sense _. She’d been in a relationship for the entirety of her time in his employ, an admittedly passionless relationship, but one nonetheless. Now, she was single, presumably seeking comfort and, or, a distraction. 

Circumstances indeed. 

It was then that Arya eyed her boss and pursed her lips, “Uh huh.” 

His cheeks flushed, the rest of his face quickly following suit, and he hurriedly excused himself to his office. She assumed that was the end of that and got back to work. 

Arya was wrong. Very, hilariously, _ terribly _wrong. 

* * *

One morning Arya arrived at work with her window down and the volume on her stereo up. She’d been awaiting the new Brotherhood album for so long; she couldn’t not blast it at every given opportunity. 

“Gendry loves music too.” Davos piped up as they walked in from their cars, while Arya only just suppressed an eye roll. “He drums in his spare time.” 

That did pique Arya’s interest a little and she looked at him, “Oh?” 

Davos smiled, “Yeah, likes to work with his hands, that one.” 

Arya didn’t resist the urge to roll her eyes this time, ignoring the belly laugh that Davos let out in response. 

* * *

“He works too hard; I’ve said as much too. Many, many times.” Davos was standing by Arya’s desk_ again _, furiously tapping at his phone. “It’s a wonder he didn’t rip his own arm off.” 

“That bad?” 

Davos sighed, “Evidently. Ambulance has him now.” 

“Davos.” 

“Arya?” 

“I think you should go. Family emergency and all that.” 

“But-” 

“You haven’t had a single day off the entire time I’ve worked here. Go be with your son, I’ll handle things for now. Okay?” 

Davos opened and closed his mouth several times before nodding, “Yes, yes. Thank you.” 

“Don’t mention it.” Arya smiled, before adding cheekily, “Though, when talk of a raise begins...” 

“I’ll seriously consider it.” 

“Wonderful.” 

* * *

Arya had always been a sucker for dogs. She’d say it was a fault, but she saw no weakness in admitting that all dogs were cute, _ even _the ugly ones. 

Davos had to have known for he was all too eager to show her a photo he had on his phone, luring her in with the promise of fluffiness. 

“Shireen is an avid dog lover.” He beamed, scrolling through his phone with a wavering confidence that reminded her of her father. 

The girl in question was nearly dwarfed by two gigantic dogs and it was too cute, reminding Arya of Bran and Rickon growing up with Summer and Shaggydog. 

_ “That’s very sweet, Davos.” _

“It is, isn’t it? Gendry took the photo. He doesn’t do the social media but he takes a good photo. Here’s one he took of Marya and I on our anniversary.” 

"How’s his shoulder?” Arya asked, still smiling at the photo. 

“Much better, thank you for asking.” His smile broadened and he straightened in his seat. 

He took this as an opening and spent the next thirty minutes debriefing Arya on how Gendry had come to be in an emergency room at three in the afternoon. Arya didn’t entirely hate it, but she’d never tell Davos that. 

* * *

“I’ve got a huge week ahead.” Jon yawned loudly and Arya could tell from just how loud, he hadn’t bothered to cover his mouth. 

“As have I.” She looked at the clock and frowned, “Why can’t we just be kids again? Living under the same roof and giving Sansa hell, I miss it." 

“So do I. But, at least now we can drink.” 

Arya smiled slightly and shifted onto her side, “True. I mean it though, I miss you.” 

On her chest of drawers sat a photo of her, Jon and Ned. One third of the photo had been folded back, away from sight, and she felt her eyes water. 

“I miss you too, little sister. Chin up, though, yeah?” 

She heard someone laugh in the background and sniffed quietly, “Yeah.” 

* * *

Arya took Jon’s words to heart, though not the words most would expect her to. A bottle of white wine sat in her basket and she stood in the chocolate aisle of her local shops – wondering how the _ fuck _she came to be there when barely two months earlier she’d been planning a future with her boyfriend. 

“C’est la fucking ve.” Arya grumbled to herself and took a handful of chocolate blocks to dump alongside the wine. 

* * *

“Davos, how did you and Marya come to adopt Gendry?” She asked as she unpacked her lunch. “Was it like my parents with Jon? When Aunt Lyanna passed, Jon’s dad wasn’t in the picture and my dad was all he had left. _ We _were all he had left.” 

“In a way, yes. His father was useless and when his mother passed...” Davos sighed, “It was a messy affair. Gendry was barely a teen and all on his own. Angry and rightfully so.” 

“What made you decide to adopt?” 

“After Stannis and Steffon were born, Marya and I were given strict instructions. No more children, under any circumstances. I had the snip, Marya had herself sorted. Done and dusted.” 

“Seven is a lot of children.” Arya conceded, “But, you wanted more?” 

“Actually, we hadn’t really thought about it until someone I knew mentioned Gendry.” Davos paused for a moment, taking the time to chew before he continued, “Stannis never was a sentimental fellow, but when he saw his nephew of all people...” 

“You named your son after Gendry’s uncle?” Arya raised an eyebrow, “I know all about confusing family trees, but yours sounds eligible for first place.” 

Davos laughed, “Yes, it can get a bit confusing. But I’d say it’s all worth it. Soon as we met Gendry we knew.” 

Arya wasn’t sure whether Davos’ persistence was paying off or if she was just bored, but she found herself turning to face him. 

“Yeah?” 

If Davos was smug, he didn’t show it. Instead, he smiled and moved to sit opposite her as he unwrapped his sandwich. 

“Surliest boy we’d ever met and it would’ve been easier to pull teeth than to force him to talk. But Gods if he didn’t fit in by the time his birthday came around. I’ve never seen such a small group of boys make so much noise in my life, never felt happier for having heard it either!” 

At that Arya laughed, knowing too well how much noise a group of boys acting up could make. Robb, Theon and Jon had only worsened once Bran and then Rickon had been old enough to join in. 

“Sounds like a good lot to be stuck with.” There wasn’t an ounce of sarcasm to be found in her tone and she found her smile growing as she ate. 

“The best, actually.” Davos smiled, his eyes growing misty behind his wire frames. 

If Davos’ stories had told her anything, it was that the Seaworth’s, all ten of them, were as loving as a family could be. She felt, at least, that she did have that in common with Gendry. 

* * *

“Have you heard from Ned?” Jon asked that night as they spoke on the phone, his work placement at the Wall having reduced their weekly calls to a fortnightly event, _ if _they were lucky. 

“No, we’re... giving each other space.” She pulled her legs up to her chest and sighed, “It’s not that I’m unhappy for him. Being yourself is hard... But...” 

She was proud of Jon though, for seeking out higher education and making something of himself. Even if it meant Arya hadn’t seen her favourite cousin since New Year’s, a night that had very much soured in her opinion. 

“But it still hurts.” 

That’s what she’d always appreciated about Jon. He took her words at face value and never tried to dig deeper and find some hidden meaning behind them. Arya still would’ve taken a tight hug over a phone call, however, and she sighed. 

“It sure does.” 

* * *

“Have I told you how perfect my boy would be for you, Stark?” He was sitting back in his office chair and had been humming contentedly between sips of his coffee when Arya had begun work. “He’s single, very responsible, and happens to have lovely parents.” 

Sadly, his relative silence hadn’t lasted. 

“We’ve skipped the subtlety have we, Davos?” Arya grinned. 

Davos snorted, “Aye, but that doesn’t answer my question.” 

“My apologies.” She replied as she clicked his mouse, “I’ve told _ you _ before; a raise would go a farther way in convincing me to stick around. Offering up one of your many sons isn’t a very good alternative.” 

The older man laughed and patted her arm before pushing his glasses further up his nose. “This isn’t my way of repaying you for a job well done, just an observation.” 

“You say that and yet,” Arya rolled her eyes, though her smile gave her away, “I’m almost convinced you screw with your computer _ just _so you can tell me more about Henry’s latest antics.” 

“_ Gendry _, Arya.” He sighed, “His name is Gendry.” 

“My mistake.” She smirked, straightening up. 

“Cheeky girl.” 

Arya winked and gestured towards the screen, “Stop clicking the ads, okay?” She said, picking up her phone and eyeing him, “No Dornish princes are offering you free dragons, not even that really, really nice one.” 

“I know, I know. They’re fake.” The older man sighed, rubbing at his brow. “The pictures are very convincing; I’ll have you know.” 

Arya let out a long-suffering sigh and shook her head, “I’m sure they are, Davos.” With that she saluted him mockingly and backed out of his office. 

“I mean it though, you’d love him!” Davos called out after her. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” Arya smiled despite herself as she called back, “Try to see if you can beat our record this time, yeah?” 

“A week without clicking one of these blasted things?” He waved at his computer screen and frowned, “I’ll try.” 

* * *

Davos’ Gendry agenda, which Arya had coined the Gendragenda while particularly tired, meant she found herself looking at a mood board for a party she had no plans of attending. 

“What do you think about the table settings?” Davos asked, his chin resting in his hands as he frowned at his own computer. 

“I think I wasn’t hired to plan parties.” Arya quipped, grinning when it earned her a stern look. 

“You are my assistant in all things, Arya.” He argued, “Remember that.” 

She sighed and gestured vaguely, “The skulls are a little... Childish, don’t you think? How old is he turning?” 

“He’ll be twenty-seven.” 

“Yeah, definitely too childish. Go for the grey colour scheme, it’s plainer but it also means you’ll have an easier time of finding things to match.” 

“Wonderful point. Say, how old are you again?” 

“Twenty-four and not interested, Davos.” Her retort didn’t have quite the same bite that it usually did and Arya felt her face warm when Davos smiled to himself. 

* * *

“Ned’s seeing someone.” 

Arya hadn’t even thought to start with a _ hello, _couldn’t when all she could focus on was the way her heart was pounding in her ears. Her chest hurt and she was staring at her laptop with watery eyes that no amount of blinking seemed to remedy. 

“What? Already?” Sansa said, “What the _ fuck _?” 

“I didn’t expect him to wait forever.” Arya said, shutting her laptop and wiping at her eyes, “I really didn’t.” 

“It’s not even been two months, Arya. It's not unreasonable to think he’d wait a little longer. Fuck.” 

Sansa so rarely swore and the few occasions she did usually made Arya smile, but this wasn’t one of those times. 

“What an absolute wanker.” Sansa hissed, to which Arya found herself agreeing solemnly. 

Her mood was in no way improved when her phone began to light up some more and she sunk back into the couch, pulling her blanket up and over her head. 

“I think I’m going to become a hermit.” She grumbled, eliciting a quiet, humourless laugh from her sister. 

“I just might join you.” 

* * *

The party, apparently, went off without issue. Davos had thanked her profusely for her help, though he’d been disappointed that her RSVP had been a firm, but apologetic no. They were barely a few days into February and after her unfortunate discovery, Arya wasn’t up for meeting Davos’ perfect son. 

Thankfully, she’d had an even better, and less embarrassing reason to decline in the end, for Robb was visiting from home and had decided that he was going to take his siblings out. Arya was in dire need of a distraction, so she couldn’t have been happier. 

* * *

A week later, on the night of the party, Arya instead found herself listening to trashy disco, her feet up on a plastic chair after a little too much dancing. The music was loud, but the drinks were being paid for by someone that _ wasn’t _ her. Of course, she was also happy to see her brother again. 

Robb was in the depths of campaigning for a chair in council back in Winterfell, something he’d happily inform anyone who so much as feigned interest, and it took up most of his free time. 

When Arya had joked that they were all so blessed that he’d deigned to grace them with his presence, he’d scowled. Funnily, he looked almost exactly like their mother when he did and that had set off peals of laughter as he steered them all into the bar. Between Robb, his girlfriend Jeyne, Sansa, Arya and the friend she’d dragged along, the laughter was loud. 

For a night, Arya was eager to forget the ache. It seemed everyone was either of the same mind, or in a far better mood than she was. 

Her phone buzzed and she smiled to find Davos’ name lighting up her screen. 

** Davos: **thx again, have a gr8 nite 

** Arya **: you too! Happy birthday to Gendry 

“I reckon they’ll be engaged by the holidays.” Harry said around a mouthful of chips. 

Arya looked up from her phone in time to see Robb dip Jeyne before he pulled her into a sloppy kiss. 

Robb had gotten increasingly more affectionate as the night wore on and Arya wasn’t sure she’d ever seen him so happy. When they’d all been children, she’d always thought him kind of stuffy. He was serious, driven, eager to make a change. It was nice to see him grinning, his hair seeming all the more red beneath the lights as he spun Jeyne. 

“Nah.” Arya shook her head as she pulled her legs beneath her, “I’d put money on before then, without a doubt.” 

“I think they already are.” Sansa interjected, dropping as gracefully into the chair besides Arya as she could manage in her inebriated state. “If we’re talking about...” She pointed to her hand and grinned. 

"What makes you say that?” 

Sansa sat forwards and lowered her voice, “Well, when we all went out for lunch last week Jeyne kept pausing at all the dress stores. It wasn’t a longing _ why won’t he propose _so much as her mentally filing away potential dresses.” 

“You say that, but I don’t see a ring. Why wouldn’t they tell us?” 

“Who knows?” Harry answered at the same time Sansa dreamily sighed, “Secrets are romantic, Arya.” 

“Sounds like a load of horseshit to me.” 

The three of them began laughing again and Arya was forced to seek out another drink as she was hit with a coughing fit. 

It was later when Arya was half-dragging a very drunk Harry to the cab she’d ordered that she found her good mood waning for the first time in hours. 

“Arry.” 

“Yes?” 

Harry Pye, or as she’d drunkenly referred to him as some years earlier, Hot Pie had to be the biggest lightweight Arya had ever met. For, despite her poking him in the side several times on the way, it wasn’t until he sat heavily in the back of a cab that he frowned up at her and finally continued. 

“Do you think we’ll ever get married, Arry?” 

“I’d kill you a day in, HP.” She joked. 

“Not to each other.” 

Arya paused, one arm resting atop the car door, “Well, I don’t really know.” 

“If it’s about Ned...” 

“It’s not.” She said, tone sharp, before she deflated slightly, “I just don’t really see myself settling down, is all.” 

“M’sorry. I didn’t mean it.” 

“Course you didn’t. Now, buckle up and don’t you _ dare _throw up. The cabby won’t be too impressed if you do.” 

“Fine...” He groaned and brought his legs in so she could shut the door. 

Arya was grateful to find that he was already fast asleep by the time she’d gotten herself buckled in. While she’d been buzzed on the way out, the question had sobered her more than she’d have liked. Now she was left to think about it. 

And think on it she did. 

* * *

It’s not as if Arya detested romance. She wasn’t running around hissing at couples or scowling because people dared to hold hands in front of her. She was just tired. Even now, having had the time to reflect and acknowledge that she’d never seen a future with Ned, it hurt. There was no right guy, girl, or otherwise that’d come along and change that. 

That’s what she told herself. 

Whether or not she actually believed it was her business and her business alone. 

Valentine’s Day passed without incident, though Arya could certainly have done without the pity spurred messages from her family. Neither Hot Pie nor Lommy were dense enough to bring it up, thankfully, and she was glad to have the apartment to herself as they went out for a lad’s night. 

She made herself some pasta, had a glass of red and watched a horror movie. That was all the comfort she needed in the end. 

* * *

It was a fortnight later, almost exactly, that Arya was waiting for her drink to dispense. A shadow passed over the glass of the vending machine and she shook her head amusedly. 

He’d, much to her delight, left it alone after the party. She hadn’t been in the mood and it must’ve showed. Whether he’d seen her puffy eyes on a few mornings or not, she just counted herself lucky that he hadn’t brought it, nor his son, up. 

But she seemed to forever be speaking _ too _soon. 

“You’re smart, Arya.” Davos stated, his arms crossed loosely over his chest in the reflection. 

“I’d hope so. You hired me on the assumption that I am.” She replied wryly, before bending to retrieve her water. “I’ve a feeling your compliment comes with a price though.” 

He had the decency to look guilty, but it passed quickly. “Gendry tells me that not everyone is eager to meet strangers through mutual friends. Is he right?” 

The fact that Davos considered them friends made her smile, though she was well aware that it wasn’t always for the best to make friends with one’s boss. She knew that from a terrible summer spent recovering from Jaqen’s idea of friendship. Yet, Davos was Davos and it was hard not to enjoy his company. They’d bonded over large families and he’d proven to be a decent boss and kind to a fault. 

Arya turned to face him, “I’d say he is, Davos.” 

“But, it’s how I met-” 

“Yes, I’ve heard the story, Davos. Marya and you are the exception to the very bad rule.” She stepped aside so Davos could order his own drink, only to look at him abruptly, "Wait, are you saying you’ve been telling him about me too?” 

Davos’ mouth twisted and he silently pushed coins into the slot, selecting an orange juice. 

“Davos!” Arya groaned, “The thought of some random guy knowing all there is to about me is unsettling.” 

“Why?” He asked, “You’re a smart lass, pretty too. Mouth of a sailor and the humour to match.” Then, “Besides he’s not some random guy, he’s my son.” 

“As much as I trust your judgement, I’m just not looking to date anyone right now.” She shrugged and smiled awkwardly, “Sorry.” 

“Ah, well.” He hummed, taking his juice and giving her a pointed look, “If you change your mind...” 

“I’ll know who to ask. Thanks.” 

* * *

“Three months.” Sansa loudly declared, holding her glass above her head, “You’ve been a single woman for three months!” 

“Thanks, I hadn’t noticed.” Arya replied dryly from her place on Sansa’s couch. 

“My point _ is _,” She continued, pausing to take a sip of her white wine, “You need to get laid.” 

Arya eyed her sister before looking back at her phone, “No.” 

“C’mon, Arya!” Sansa pouted, “You deserve it! After everything, you deserve some fun.” 

“I think you’ve got my fun quota more than covered, Sansa.” 

* * *

Sansa, in the end, conspired with Meera. 

* * *

The night Arya met the Bull was messy, loud and entirely _ not _ her fault . Though Meera was the one who’d dragged her out, Sansa was the one who’d pointed out that they’d been working together for two years. To celebrate their friendiversary, a term that Meera had used without an ounce of irony, she’d suggested they go out for drinks. That was how Arya found herself in a shimmery, knee-length dress and heels, at a bar on a Saturday night when usually she’d have been doing _ anything _else. She had a stack of books calling her name and Lommy had a copy of the latest Syrio Forel film for them to watch, but instead – 

“How long have you been coming here?” Arya asked loudly, over the new wave that blared from the speakers. 

One look around told her all she really needed to know. It was an older person’s haunt. By old she really only meant her parent’s age, which wasn’t _ that _old, but it was certainly older than her. Older than Arya found herself interested in, but the wine was cheaper than any of Sansa’s favourite spots and she couldn’t deny that the music was better too. She could recognise every single song, not that she necessarily enjoyed them all, but it made for an easier time relaxing. 

“About a year or so!” Meera called back, puffing at her cigarette. She’d quit at least four times in the time Arya had known her, yet every time alcohol was involved, she found herself reaching for them again. “Jojen _ loves _it here.” 

Not surprising given Jojen, Meera’s brother and Bran’s boyfriend, was an old man in a young man’s body. It was why their brothers got along so well. Arya without much issue could picture them both comfortably enjoying themselves here. 

“What do _ you _think?” Meera gestured around, the cigarette in between her two fingers leaving a trail of smoke. 

“It’s fine.” Arya shrugged before taking Meera’s cigarette and taking a drag before stubbing it out. 

That earned her a jab in the side before Meera laughed and grabbed her hand, “Fine isn’t good enough!” 

She was tugging her out onto the dancefloor in a flash, hips swaying obnoxiously as Arya shook her head. Occupied entirely by retirees, swaying from side to side as a Fleetwood Mac song came on, Arya found herself smiling and wrapping her arms around Meera’s neck. 

“Reckon we’ll pull?” Meera ducked to whisper in Arya’s ear, making her laugh loudly. 

They twirled and swayed, to and fro, out of time to the music their parents had enjoyed at their age. Arya couldn’t remember having danced so much in her life, discounting a few recitals as a child. She’d had the rhythm, the drive, but in the end, she’d settled for a more reliable path. It made nights like this all the more enjoyable. 

Each song brought its own type of crowd, but the two of them remained nonetheless. Through the cruisier songs, through the up-tempo, and eventually through the romantic. She’d leaned in to rest her head on Meera’s shoulder, taking comfort in the way her taller friend took it in her stride. Arya let herself sing along, no matter how tone deaf she was, to every song she recognised and Meera joined in. 

It took a particular pennywhistle solo to finally drive Meera off the lit-up tiles, pulling Arya along with her. 

“Sorry, that song makes me cry.” Meera panted, signalling the bartender. Her cheeks were red and she’d begun sweating, a sheen across her top lip and forehead. For how Arya felt, she knew she was probably in the same state. 

“S’fine.” Arya grinned, drumming her fingers as she sat up beside her. “You were right though. This is fun.” 

“Told you it would be!” Meera grinned right back before rattling off their order and rolling her shoulders. 

Arya paid no mind to Meera as she paid for the drinks and slid one across, instead curiously glancing around. She wondered if she’d cast aspersions on the place too early, for the later it got the more diverse the crowd became. People looked closer to their age now and the music had skipped a couple of decades. The thought of their gangly, bookish brothers bopping about to electronic music had Arya smiling to herself. 

“The drink okay?” Came a deep voice from beside her, pulling her from her thoughts. 

Arya looked up to find the bartender smiling at her, a finger pointed towards where her glass had paused just before her mouth. She made no move to lower it though, for the bartender’s smile was distracting. 

He had to be six foot, easy, and his shoulders were broad. The mess of dark hair atop his head fell across his forehead, but it had nothing on his eyes. They were bright blue and crinkled in the corners, something that made Arya’s stomach flop over. That wasn’t even accounting for the arms left bare by his holey tank, the faded band design plastered on the front holding Arya’s attention for barely a second when she saw the ink peeking out from the fabric. 

“Yeah.” She finally replied breathily, despite having not drunk a single drop yet. 

“Good, wouldn’t want any complaints.” He laughed, a noise that made her stomach warm and she shifted to press her thighs together. 

“You certainly wouldn’t.” Arya grinned, feeling any reservations she still held for the night fade away. “But the drink is great, thanks.” 

“Let me know if that changes.” He looked at her pointedly before his attention was drawn to the other end of the bar by a loud holler. With a playful roll of his eyes he smiled and disappeared to the other end of the bar, offering Arya a decent view of his back and arse. She took the opportunity to look, before her face warmed and she looked away. 

Arya licked her lips before draining her drink in one gulp. 

* * *

**Sansa: **have fun love uuuuu

** Arya: **thanks for ganging up on me, I might actually be having fun 

** Sansa: ** ** 😙 **

* * *

The bartender, as it turned out, was quite popular. Not for his arms, though Arya would certainly argue to the contrary, but for his ability to make decent drinks. 

“Unlike that pissy twat down at the Twins.” Meera had murmured in Arya’s ear, eliciting a loud snort. 

* * *

Though she’d finished her drink in no time, it took three more songs for him to make it back down to where she stood. His tank was clinging to him and his cheeks had gained more colour, but the smile remained. Arya noticed the dimples and steadfastly ignored the somersaults her stomach seemed intent on doing as a result. 

“Another?” He pointed to her glass and grinned when she nodded. 

Meera had disappeared to the bathroom to fix her lipstick and Arya bit her lip before leaning over the bar and loudly adding, “And another of what my friend was having.” 

He nodded and set about grabbing them two new glasses, the lights casting shades of blue and purple across his face. While normally Arya was certain it’d have made someone look rather odd, it only sought to highlight how pretty he was. The long, straight bridge of his nose and the high cheekbones were enough to make her mouth go dry. 

She supposed Sansa might’ve been right in declaring that she needed to get laid. 

And bad. 

He set both glasses down and Arya tapped her card against the machine, all the while staring up at him. When he looked back, his eyes were twinkling and he was resting his elbows on the bar. 

“You’ve got a bit of,” He called over the music, his thumb dragging across his bottom lip, “right there.” 

Arya grimaced and took a napkin before dipping it in her drink and wiping along where he’d gestured. 

“Thanks!” 

“No problem.” He grinned; his eyes still set on her mouth. 

Her heart hammered in her chest as he opened his mouth once more, only for Meera to loudly announce herself as she returned. 

“Have a great night.” He mouthed, before straightening up and seeing to another patron. 

“What’d I miss?” Meera stage whispered into her ear. 

Arya gestured to their glasses casually, despite how warm she felt, “Got us another round.” 

* * *

She was relatively sober by the time Meera announced she had organised a ride home, though her eyeliner was a bit smeared from the constant tears of laughter and the hair from her braid was steadily coming undone. Arya’s feet hurt and she regretted not having a few more drinks, but couldn’t find it in her to complain. Despite her initial resistance, she’d had fun. A _ lot _of fun. 

They left the bar hand in hand, thinking nothing of it. There’d been a time when Arya had been proud to say she had _ no _friends who were girls, but she could scarcely imagine her life without Sansa, or Meera, and even Gilly was a fun time given the right circumstances. Nights like this only cemented how stupid and stubborn a little girl she’d been. 

They were laughing as they rounded the corner to the taxi bay and Arya found herself face to face with the bartender. 

“Hullo.” Meera beamed, “Thank you for the drinks.” 

“Hi.” He smiled, albeit a little awkwardly as his cheeks warmed, “No problem. It’s... my job.” 

“Literally.” Arya added, grinning. 

Those damned eyes slowly moved up across her, over her legs and hips and higher until, they met hers again. She felt herself warm from head to toe, that same irritating but addictive heat between her thighs, before she looked away. His mouth twitched a little and he cleared his throat, stepping to the side so he was perched at the edge of the sidewalk. 

“Well, goodnight.” He said, looking directly at Arya the entire time. 

“Night.” Meera said quietly, head turned away though Arya could feel her shaking a little. 

Arya looked up at him and nodded slowly, “Yeah, night.” 

He slowly nodded back before he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away, shoulders high. 

Once he was out of view Arya looked at Meera and rolled her eyes, “Are you _ laughing _?” 

Meera hiccupped and guiltily met Arya’s gaze, her eyes watery. “I’m _ sorry, _he was practically undressing you! I might as well have been a fire hydrant for all the attention he paid me.” 

“You’re so full of it.” She huffed, though her face had by no means returned to its usual colour. 

“Don’t think I am.” Meera pulled herself from Arya’s arm and grinned, waggling her eyebrows. “I think you should go after him.” 

“What?” Arya frowned and shook her head, “Nah. He was just being polite, Meera.” 

“I don’t think he was.” She replied, “There’s no harm in finding out... it could be fun. A one-nighter.” 

Arya couldn’t even remember the last time she’d fallen into bed with someone she didn't know. It couldn’t be any worse than the opposite, but she didn’t particularly _ want _to remember the awkwardness underlying every time her and Ned had sex. Three years wasted, accepting the blatantly boring way they approached intimacy. It made sense now, of course, but at the time it had only given her something to fret over. 

Sex with someone she didn’t know, didn’t have any emotional attachment to, someone who may actually be attracted to her – it sounded good, exciting. 

Something must’ve changed in Arya’s posture, or her face, or both, because Meera was grinning again. 

_ Fuck it. _

_ Literally _. 

She resigned herself to the potential embarrassment of the bartender not actually being interested, but found herself backing up anyway. 

“Text me when you get home safe?” Arya asked, ignoring the snicker she received as a response. “Text me, Meera!” 

“Back at you, babes.” Meera winked and blew her an obnoxiously loud kiss, “Have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

“You’re ridiculous.” Arya sighed, before turning around and walking in the direction they’d come. 

“You love me!” Meera’s voice echoed after her and Arya couldn’t help the fond smile that pulled at her mouth. 

Thankfully, despite being ridiculously tall and having walked away like he was on a mission, the bartender hadn’t gone far and she could’ve spotted that back anywhere. 

“Hey!” Arya called out, grimacing as her voice echoed. 

He turned around, brows furrowed and forehead wrinkled before he spotted her. Then his face grew puzzled and he stopped walking. 

“If you dropped something at the bar, I don’t have the keys.” He said slowly, “I just sent the owner home in a cab.” 

“No, I didn’t drop anything.” Arya smiled, feeling her palms grow a little sweaty as the nervousness set in. “I was just...” 

His head tilted to the side slightly and Arya was reminded of a puppy, for the split second before a smug smile replaced the confusion. 

“Oh.” He exhaled softly, “Get the hint, did you?” 

“Shut up.” Arya retorted half-heartedly before marching forwards to pull him into a kiss. 

He ducked without hesitation and met her kiss eagerly, his lips soft against hers and his tongue tasting of something sweet as it swept across her bottom lip. She felt a large hand land on the small of her back and pull her closer, her arms winding around his neck. 

“I live nearby.” He breathed out in between kisses; his eyes still closed. Arya found herself staring at the shadows his eyelashes cast upon his cheeks and decided that this man had definitely been designed as either a gift or torture for her personally. 

“Lead the way.” She replied. 

* * *

Arya paid his apartment building no mind as she felt him up in the elevator, his lips at her neck as she grabbed at his ass through his jeans. He exhaled roughly against her skin and pulled at her earlobe with his teeth, a hand planted by her head against the elevator wall. 

“What’s your name?" He asked, pulling away to look at her dazedly. 

She made a decision then, in a haze of unwelcome memories, and sought to distract him. 

She pulled him into another kiss and his question was soon forgotten as they stumbled out of the elevator and towards his door. If she’d been in a clearer state of mind, she might’ve felt sorry for any neighbour who had to endure the man’s loud stomping. One could only imagine what he was like when angry, as opposed to the noises of a man eagerly leading a woman back to his apartment. 

He hurriedly pulled his keys out, missing the lock a few times as Arya’s hands drifted from his hips up to his stomach and then down again. 

“I-I can’t.” He laughed a little, before his forehead thumped against his front door as Arya’s hand met the front of his jeans. “_ Fucking hells.” _

Arya smirked and guided her other hand over his, helping him push the key in steadily. “Easy.” She murmured, laughing as he looked over his shoulder at her. 

“Says y-ou.” His tone went from grouchy to erring towards a moan as Arya squeezed and he turned the key, shoving his door open. 

If his arms and broad shoulders hadn’t given his strength away, the way he lifted Arya easily in the next moment certainly confirmed it. She found herself inside and pressed against his swiftly closed front door before she could so much as blink. 

“Tiny thing, aren’t you?” His tone was erring on teasing, even as he leaned in to kiss along her neck. 

“I am not tiny.” Arya narrowed her eyes and was met with a humoured exhale against her skin. 

“Tiny enough for me to do this.” He said before pushing her further up the door, all as his gaze met hers. 

The look in his eyes had her inhaling sharply and his hand dragged along her thigh. With that, her argument faded and she couldn’t help smiling. He ducked to kiss along her jaw, one hand moving up to cup her breast through her dress. She internally thanked Meera for suggesting she forgo a bra and pushed into his touch. He squeezed, just as his teeth met where her neck and shoulder joined, making her whine. 

“_ Please.” _

She didn’t even know what she was asking for, but she knew she wanted it bad. 

It was enough to have him kissing the corner of her mouth, before he murmured, “I’m-” 

Arya turned her head and tugged at his bottom lip with her teeth, spurred on by the breathy moan he let out. Her tongue swept into his mouth, moving against his eagerly. He pushed against her and his hand moved to cup her backside, fingers digging into her as he bumped his nose against hers. She was happily dominating the kiss, her fingers tangled in his hair, when he moved his hips up against her core. The seam of his jeans pressed right against her and she whimpered into his mouth, making him grin as he pulled away. 

“Unfair.” Arya ground out, “What’re you...?” 

She tried to ask as he lowered himself, hands trailing down her sides before settling on her thighs. He pushed them apart and looked up at her, his grin turning into a smirk. 

“Repaying the favour.” 

“But... I didn’t.” 

His fingers moved beneath her dress and she bit her bottom lip when he gravelly replied, “Oh, I know.” 

He quickly pulled her underwear down her thighs and then his mouth was against the inner skin of her thigh, the burn of his stubble making her arch into him. She felt teeth against her before his tongue was soothing the spot, Arya’s hand dropping to rest in thick, dark hair. Her fingers tightened when she felt his breath fan across her core, his hand moving behind her knee as he drew her leg over his shoulder. 

Shakily letting her head fall back against the door with a thud, his tongue met her clit eagerly and she whined. Normally she’d have felt some embarrassment at being so vocal, but when he happened to look up, his pupils dark, she only felt more turned on. He didn’t look away this time as his lips closed around her clit and she melted back into the door, her eyes closing of their own volition. 

Arya had never understood stories that detailed a man _ devouring _the woman beneath him, not until the bartender upped the ante and pulled her even closer. His tongue dragged through her folds and circled her entrance, making her call out unintelligibly. 

“Fuck.” She managed breathily. 

His eagerness only seemed to increase with every noise he drew from her, tongue working against her clit attentively as she felt his hand move across her thigh. When a finger came to her entrance hesitantly, she felt him pull away slightly. 

“This okay?” 

“Y-yeah.” He smiled brightly and Arya swallowed, feeling the same butterflies she’d felt earlier in the night. His cheek dimpled when he smiled and his eyes were all the more vibrant in the light of his apartment. 

He pushed a finger into her slowly and her eyes might’ve rolled back in her skull. He took his time and Arya could’ve sworn she felt him wetly kiss her thigh as he began pumping. His fingers were _ far _thicker than hers and when he crooked it just so, her stomach might as well have turned to liquid. The feeling intensified when he decided to add a second, scissoring his fingers gently as he moved to take her clit into his mouth again. 

From there, Arya could barely speak, managing the rare moan or expletive as his fingers quickened. She tugged at his hair, moving her hips down against him eagerly as she felt the familiar tension begin to build. Her other hand sought purchase against the door, finally coming to rest on the handle and tightening. When his mouth strayed, it was quickly replaced with his thumb and he rubbed at her clit with even more vigour. 

“Close, sweetheart?” 

Arya made to speak, her mouth opened and all, but instead he happened to find _ the _spot at just the right time. She let out a rather loud moan and clenched around his fingers, feeling the coil snap. Her back arched off the door and she whimpered, thighs attempting to close around his head. 

The time between her climax and when she finally found it in her to open her eyes could’ve been anywhere from a minute to an hour. She felt him breathing against her thigh and flushed when she realised, he was chuckling. 

“Good?” He asked, looking at her, a smug grin pulling at his lips. 

“Better than.” She replied breathily as he set her legs down slowly. 

He pulled out his fingers and she swallowed when he wrapped his lips around them, standing easily. Arya didn’t bother to fix her hair or dress, figuring they were both lost causes, and instead bent to undo her shoes. Her eyes flicked up to him and she smirked as he stepped back, his eyes darkening. 

She kicked both shoes off and immediately reached to unzip her dress, all as his hands fell to his jeans and he hurriedly popped the button. 

Her dress fell and his mouth followed suit, eyes intently dragging across her as she stepped out of the fabric and moved closer. 

As his hands unzipped his jeans she shot forward and tugged at his tank, her fingers meeting the warm skin underneath. Dragging them upwards her eyes widened as she mapped the dips and hard planes of his stomach and chest. Tossing the shirt away, Arya was met with the very ink she’d been trying to decipher earlier in the night, covering a chest worth drooling over. She ran her fingers along his chest and up to his shoulder, licking along her bottom lip as she noted a bull, skulls, roses and more made up the thick lines and stylised art across his chest and the tops of his arms. 

Her fingers brushed along a skin toned bandage around his shoulder and she frowned, to which he huffed a laugh. 

“I’m a klutz.” He admitted sheepishly, his fingers coming to toy with her braid. 

“Seem pretty dexterous to me.” She retorted before hooking her fingers into his belt loops. 

He hummed happily and dragged his fingers through her hair, loosening the braid until the tie came loose. That was when she pulled away to drag his jeans down his thighs, kneeling before him and internally thanking the plush carpet beneath her. His breathing was growing steadily more ragged and Arya looked up once more, smiling as he nodded jerkily. She tugged his jeans over his feet and tossed them aside, dragging her hands up along his thighs. 

_ Is any part of him not massive? _ She thought to herself as she stared at the way his briefs strained across his dick, her fingers gently tugging them down. It was a concerted effort to not let out a little noise when she was met with him, bare to her, and begging for attention. It had been a long, _ long _time. But in the face of nervousness, Arya put her feet metaphorically down. 

“What was it you said,” Arya asked teasingly, “about returning favours?” 

* * *

Arya was still panting when he’d awkwardly offered the use of his bathroom so she could tidy up. She hadn’t considered how she’d look, until she found herself using a face washer to wipe away any smeared makeup and caught sight of her reflection. Her fingers were a pretty shitty substitute for a hairbrush, but she made do, pulling her hair back into a loose ponytail. 

Her lips were bruised and she didn’t even want to see the state of the rest of her, but she couldn’t stop smiling. 

With one last cursory look at herself, she turned the light off. 

Upon exiting the bathroom, she was met with a very coy looking bartender. His neck was already showing an array of marks and he’d only thought to tug his briefs back on. In the well-lit living room, she mentally congratulated herself as he unfairly looked even better when not in a darkened bar. 

“So...” He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. 

“So.” Arya smiled and pointed to the corner of the room, “Nice drums.” 

He laughed nervously and nodded, “Thanks.” 

* * *

The apartment was quiet when she let herself in twenty minutes later, heels in hand as she turned her key slowly. The floorboards, especially around the kitchen, creaked something awful so she took her time to wind through. When finally, Arya found herself on the carpet of her room, she let out a sigh of relief and dropped her shoes. 

Taking the necessary three steps forward, she fell onto her bed face first and fell asleep. 

Her phone lit up, to be ignored until Arya awoke at midday cursing her thumping head and rumbling stomach. 

**Meera: **TOLD YOU TOLD YOU TOLD YOU!!!!!! Talk later xoxoxo

And then again. 

**Unknown Number: **thanks for a fun night 😊 ps. Your name is just the wolf emoji in my phone???


	2. once bitten and twice shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya and the Bull spark an unexpected friendship, Meera can't help herself and a coincidental meeting changes everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was not expecting all of the responses to part 1 and for that, thank you all so much! This fic really put me outside my comfort zone in the best possible way and I can’t wait to write some more modern Gendrya in the future. If you have any ideas, shoot me a message over on tumblr (necromantiaes) or twitter (@eIicardales)! I thank you all for your patience, letting my stories breathe has done wonders in keeping my muse going and I'm looking forward to a creatively exciting 2020! 
> 
> Please enjoy the finale to my lil romcom to start the New Year x
> 
> Update (2/01): I've been alerted to a wee unfinished sentence and have removed it for clarity! The downside to writing at all hours of the morning :P

Between her last orgasm and the awkward goodbye following, Arya and the bartender had exchanged numbers. If she’d been in her right mind (see: not in a post orgasm haze) she’d probably have thought it a bad idea. But the sex had undoubtedly left her in a good enough mood to be ghosted. She’d have entertained just about anything following _ that _ performance in all honesty and she didn’t have any expectations as to what his having her number would entail. 

Many, movies and shitty magazine columns told her to anticipate not a word before they both went their separate ways and for the better too! Hook ups were fun at the time, but terribly awkward after, ending swiftly as they were meant to. 

Right? 

Wrong. 

When she awoke the following morning, her phone at a dismal 12 percent battery, to find a thank you message of all things: she didn’t know how to proceed. There were no crude allusions to what they’d gotten up to, no emojis bar the slightly adorable smiley face. Hells, Arya had been expecting an eggplant, or a lewd line-up of finger emojis. He’d certainly had that look about him – smug and more than a little crude. 

Instead, he’d been disarmingly polite. 

That’s the last time she’d go believing something called _A __Women’s Westeros_. 

An hour later, over coffee and some buttered toast, she replied. Then, she gave him a name. The first thing to come to mind were his tattoos and so, with a little laugh, Arya put _Bull _. 

However, he never responded. There was no coy banter, no slightly embarrassed apologies for the carpet burn she now had on the back of her thighs. 

A month passed, nearly two. Nothing. 

Arya moved on, as she’d grown used to doing. 

* * *

Things didn’t seem content with remaining stagnant, however. 

She really had to stop presuming the actions of other people as they were proving to be _incredibly_ unpredictable. 

* * *

She was sitting at her desk on a particularly slow Thursday. Her earbuds were in place as she transcribed another of Davos’ lengthy voice memos, when her phone buzzed, disrupting the flow of information. Frowning, she made to tell whoever it was to sod off. 

Then she saw the message. 

** Bull: **the brotherhood’s new song SUCKS, disappointed but not surprised 

Arya’s brows rose in surprise, at first not recognising the name. The only other person she knew who listened to the Brotherhood Without Banners was Jon. But he’d always joked that while he’d been a fan for longer, she was the more passionate fan. In that and everything really. 

_ “That’s our Arya. Always giving half a heart more than the rest of us.” He’d ruffled her hair and winked at her as he said it, making her cheeks warm as she elbowed his side. _

But he rarely had cell service, let alone the data to stream new music, and he certainly wouldn’t waste any service to text her about that. Her eyes caught on the name again, something stirring before finally recognition hit her like a freight train and she let out a snort. She was thankful for the fact that Davos was out when it echoed down the hallway but she delighted in knowing her mother would’ve been horrified. 

Then eight weeks of silence returned to sour her mood, wondering how he had the gall to suddenly reappear now, talking about _ her _favourite band as if it were nothing. She seriously considered ghosting him right back, out of a petulant need to prove a point more than a lack of interest. Still, she found herself weighing the pros and cons of replying. 

Rudeness aside, he’d been fun. 

Good. 

Better than good. 

“Fuck it.” Arya sighed, attempting to channel at least a fraction of Meera’s nonchalance. 

🐺: they’ve sucked for a while now, mate. Also, hi? 

**Bull: **oh shit sorry meant to send to my brother 

**Bull:** wait you listen to the brotherhood? 

🐺: of course I do, I have taste 

**Bull: **ha 

**Bull: **we shall see. 

**Bull: **listen to the song and let me know 

**Bull: **because it’s bad. Really fucking bad 

Arya’s lips twitched and she switched to the music app quickly, kicking her feet up and settling in. 

🐺: I'm putting it on, wish me luck 😛 

The song started. She physically recoiled. 

🐺: oh no 

🐺: oh god 

🐺: I hate everything 

**Bull: **told you 

* * *

**Bull:** have you HEARD acorn hall? the drumming is tinny, the vocals are weak and you can’t even hear lem playing the bass. pathetic effort 

🐺: you aren’t wrong but I still maintain that war of the five kings is WAY worse. 

**Bull:** war of the five kings was a return to form, how dare you 

🐺: with those lyrics??? I think fucking not 

**Bull:** i refuse to hear another word of this slander 

Arya returned to her dinner with a wry grin, again falsely expecting that to be the end of things. Instead her phone buzzed again, not a minute later. 

**Bull:** listening to wotfk again and you might be right 

🐺: might be??? 

🐺: okay. can we at least admit that Thoros is the better songwriter? 

**Bull:** oh without question 

**Bull:** heading into work but talk tomorrow? 

Arya felt something at that – she didn’t even know his name and he didn’t know hers. Yet, he wanted to talk some more. Something about it was confronting, but she found herself replying all the same. 

🐺: sure, but only if you concede to wotfk being TERRIBLE 

**Bull:** no promises 

She’d thought their brief acquaintance was done and dusted, yet there they were. Still texting some days later, still complaining about how Beric Dondarrion had clearly sold out. They'd sent one another their personal album rankings, along with song choices, and the Bull had been offended by certain omissions. If either of them thought it particularly weird, they said not a word, instead mocking the other's objectively poor taste. It felt natural in how quickly they fell into banter over what song had indicated the Brotherhood’s impending fall from grace.

Weird beginnings aside, Arya couldn’t complain. 

Any phone call with her second youngest brother, who had determined he was both their born-again ancestor from days of old _and_ a seer, would outweird any circumstantial friendship she fell into. 

* * *

A month following their first real conversation, she found herself talking to him almost daily. Aya hadn’t been sure what to expect of him, knowing as little as she did, but was pleasantly surprised. He was funny, occasionally dense, and as she quickly discovered – incapable of starting a conversation. If there was one thing Arya knew for certain about whom she’d dubbed the Bull, it was that he was as blunt as a butter knife. 

There was no _hello_, _how are you_, or _I’ve been thinking about you _to pre-empt their conversations, not even mere hours after she’d blown him. It explained the ghosting, at least. He'd endearingly proven himself incapable of initiating conversations, to which Arya had teased him all the more.

**Bull: **let me guess private school

🐺: the lack of punctuation is killing me!!! but yes. what about it?

**Bull: **fucking knew it

Every conversation blissfully lacked the flowery, adjective laden compliments that had littered her conversations with Ned. When they’d first begun dating, Arya had found it flattering, but eventually it had worn thin. It was all replacing some very necessary conversations and difficult decisions. Only now did Ned’s avoidance make sense to her, though it was too late to heal the fractured nature of their relationship post-breakup. She'd avoided talking to him, bar the necessary organisation after moving out, and knew little of his goings on - she wanted to keep it that way. 

Conversely, the Bull jumped straight to the point, for better or worse, and they weren’t even dating. He was quick to bite back when Arya teased, was up at all hours of the night like her, and neither of them were adverse to dropping several expletives per conversation. 

He’d also been upfront about his desire to steer clear of relationships, to which Arya couldn’t argue for she felt exactly the same. 

In that vein, no real names. At first it'd been a joke born out of Arya's having put the stupid emoji in place of her name for a laugh. But eventually, it'd become a thing. 

**Bull: **you’re okay with me calling you wolf 

🐺: yeah, sure, why not!

🐺: it's a bit of a laugh 😀

**Bull: **okay. what are you calling me 

🐺: Bull. Duh. 

**Bull: **how very creative of you 

🐺: between the tattoos and your personality, it just seemed right! 

**Bull: **how rude

🐺: you love it, admit it.

**Bull: **so, no names. Any other guidelines, wolfie 

Arya rolled her eyes at that and not just for the awful nickname or his deflecting.

Guidelines. 

That wasn’t an altogether terrible idea. 

🐺: don’t call me wolfie is rule number 2. 

**Bull: **noted. What else 

🐺: no life stories 

**Bull: **done.

**Bull: **what about sex talk 

Arya snorted, taking a moment to think on it. 

🐺: in general or about us specifically 

**Bull:** both for starters? just to be safe 

🐺: sure, just to be safe 

* * *

It turned out, they rarely agreed on anything that wasn't music. Television, movies, books – all ended with them debating passionately. Arya wasn’t quite sure what to make of his belief that two characters were destined to be together, just because of some rather flippantly written scenes that led nowhere. He argued that she was just a grump, which led to a mid-afternoon argument in which Arya realised he was just as opinionated as her. 

It’d be impressive if she weren’t so frustrated. 

**Bull: **EVERYTHING SET IT UP. THEY WERE IN LOVE 

🐺: she left. I'd say that is evidence to the contrary 

**Bull: **IT WAS BAD WRITING, END OF 

🐺: bad writing, sure. But it’s canon 

**Bull: **are you always so cynical 

🐺: cynicism and realism aren’t the same thing 

**Bull: **keep telling yourself that, scrooge 

🐺: fuckin rude 

**Bull: **you didn’t think I was rude when I made you 

**Bull: **never mind 

🐺: no, please. Finish that sentence. 

**Bull: **you have to earn it 

After that, she found she quite liked arguing with him. 

* * *

On her birthday, Sansa had Arya convinced that seeing a film in the cinemas might do them both some good. The movie, unfortunately, was terrible but the quips exchanged were gold and Arya found herself detailing all of the sharp commentary to the Bull as she got ready for bed. 

🐺: what is YOUR opinion on explosions? 

**Bull: **in movies or generally 

🐺: movies, stupid 

**Bull: **well then, with that tone you won’t hear a word of my opinion 

🐺: uh huh 

**Bull: **what 

🐺: it’s just that never stopped you before 

**Bull: **i'm being attacked 

🐺: you just came out to have a good time and all 

**Bull: **i don’t know what that means 

🐺: gods, how old ARE YOU???? 

**Bull: **old enough to know that many question marks is obscene 

🐺: o l d 

**Bull: **oi, you’re gorgeous and all but that’s just rude 

Arya’s face felt so warm at that response she had to get up and splash her face with water from the bathroom sink. 

* * *

In Arya's defence, they still hadn’t broken the no personal details rule and they still didn't know each other's names. One broken rule wasn't anything to stress over. Not when it was broken with everyone involved agreeing to the new terms. 

She’d come home from work after a particularly hellish day. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. As a result, she was stressed out, annoyed, and her roommates weren't home. She'd showered, done a face mask, cooked herself dinner and still felt antsy. So, when the Bull messaged her and started getting flirty – she suggested a slight aside to their initial rule. Still no names, still no personal talk. 

It was just some stress relief. Nothing serious. 

Stress relief that ended with Arya grinning and the Bull asking that it be a permanent rule change. 

**Bull:** we never said we couldn't make amendments

* * *

Following that amendment, Arya loosened up even more. It was as if they'd gotten over the initial awkwardness that still lingered, for now she couldn't shut up. 

It seemed neither could he.

* * *

She was always awake well before he was, at least eating breakfast by the time he sleepily dragged himself from bed. It meant she had a good twenty minutes of time to talk between brushing her teeth and the walk to her car, then from her car into work. She made the most of it, even if he questioned her methods on occasion. 

**Bull: **wait are you typing while brushing your teeth

🐺: if I am?

**Bull: **you're the kind of person they warn kids against becoming. you'll get square eyes you know

🐺: what are you doing now?

**Bull: **no comment

🐺: c'mon

🐺: tell me

🐺: I won't tease you

**Bull: **i'm using the treadmill

🐺: whaT THE FUCK? that's way more dangerous than brushing your teeth

🐺: the hypocrisy is astounding

**Bull: **okay okay i get it

**Bull: **i won't criticise your texting habits any further

**Bull: **so long as you promise not to text while on the toilet

🐺: ew, who do you think i am

* * *

After work is when they talked the most for Arya finished at four. But from what she could discern the Bull's schedule was all over the place. 

It wasn't like she'd purposefully kept track of when he texted her, but when it got to twenty past and she hadn't heard from him, she knew he was busy. 

She also knew that he was undoubtedly going to bombard her with texts when he had the opportunity to. 

Some afternoons it was as she got herself a snack, whether it be an ice cream from the shop around the corner from home, or a lemon cake that Sansa had kept aside for her. On those days, where they stood talking in Sansa's shop, Arya resisted the urge to check her phone when it buzzed. Family was family, even an attractive, funny man didn't detract from that. 

* * *

Not even when he sent her entire Syrio Forel monologues out of the blue and asked her if she'd seen _Not Today_, the most recent of his cinematic adventures..

**🐺: **wait, you like Syrio????

**Bull: **like? I love Syrio. He's the reason I got into drumming

🐺: Syrio doesn't drum

**Bull: **no but when I was a kid I remember he did this interview where he talked about channeling anger or sadness into something creative. It helped a lot when I was struggling with some stuff, drumming came along at precisely the right time honestly

**Bull: **did you have any hobbies like that growing up?

🐺: that's really sweet, Bull

🐺: and yes, I did actually. care to take a guess?

**Bull: **wrestling

🐺: wrestling?

**Bull: **you're feisty 

🐺: thanks? but wrong.

**Bull: **fencing

🐺: wrong.

**Bull: **fine, i'll bite what was it

🐺: ballet 

**Bull: **huh

**Bull: **makes sense

🐺: how so?

**Bull: **you're bendy

**🐺:** bendy?

🐺: so smooth

**Bull: **let me guess. miss private school has a better word for it

🐺: flexible, pliable, supple, malleable

**Bull: **you're really going to have me texting you from a thesaurus soon aren't you

🐺: oh we can only hope

* * *

The flirting by no means calmed when the Bull _did _get a thesaurus. In fact, Arya spent many lunch breaks trying not to blush as he found synonyms for any number of inappropriate things. 

She hated him. 

**Bull: **would you perchance be agreeable to an evening exchange of tantilising prints

🐺: not even private school kids talk like that jfc

**Bull: **are you most certain? 

🐺: fucking hell

**Bull: **you know it's hot

🐺: send the photos and get it over with, fool!

**Bull: **how disrespectful 

* * *

Arya didn't hate him. 

Not even a little. 

Especially not when she got a few particularly pleasant photos of him in briefs and nothing more. 

She eagerly returned the favour. 

* * *

Meera rarely shared a lunch break with Arya now that her responsibilities had been doubled, but on the one day a week she did they made the most of it. Conversation always veered towards their personal lives after the mandatory debrief and bitch about delays. However, Arya had initially been remiss to mention the Bull, as she wasn’t sure how to even explain what was going on, now six weeks in. 

Arya found herself hoping Meera had forgotten about him. She was wrong, as always. 

“So, how’ve you been?” Meera asked suddenly around a forkful of salad, her other hand tapping madly at her phone. “I’ve hardly seen you.” 

“Fine.” Arya answered too quickly, her cheeks flushing as she added far more casually, “Between work and the weekly movie nights with Sansa, I’ve been busy.” 

Meera raised an eyebrow and looked away from her phone, “Busy?” 

“Yeah, busy.” Arya nodded slowly and took a bite of her sandwich, setting her own phone down to take a sip of water. 

She hoped that the conversation would continue on, as it usually did, to Jojen and Bran’s latest antics. They’d announced to all, via a social media post no less, that they were moving in together. Everyone involved was pleased, if not a little concerned given how expensive Winterfell had gotten in recent years. 

Maybe Arya would broach how their fathers had come to be close friends following the revelation that their sons were together. Anything to move on from the truth, a deflection to aide another deflection. 

Her attention, however, was elsewhere when her phone lit up. She’d barely registered that the Bull was messaging for the third time that day when Meera struck. Her hand shot out and she pulled Arya’s phone to her chest before Arya could so much as blink. 

“Meera!” Arya hissed, dropping her sandwich. 

“Oh, my, gods.” Meera’s eyes dropped to the screen and widened before she turned the phone to face Arya, “You’ve been busy alright.” 

Arya made to grab it, but Meera pulled it out of reach and waggled her eyebrows. 

“Afternoon, ladies!” Davos called out to them suddenly, distracting Meera enough for Arya to take her phone forcefully. 

“Afternoon, Davos.” Arya said, attempting cheerfulness though she was glaring at Meera something fierce. 

“Afternoon.” Meera was grinning mischievously, an unwelcome but very familiar twinkle in her eye, “Been _busy_ today, Davos?” 

“Oh, very.” He replied airily as he took his lunch from the staff fridge and popped the microwave door, “As has Arya, could barely tear her eyes away from her phone earlier. Doubling up between the work phone and her own, that’s dedication.” 

Meera snorted, “Oh, really?” 

Arya kicked Meera’s shin hard beneath the table, eliciting a yelp from her friend. 

Davos looked up, bushy eyebrows raised as he looked between them, “Alright?” 

“Perfect,” Arya replied as Meera weakly managed, “Super.” 

The microwave beeped and Davos smiled, taking his container from it and raising it in salute, “Back to work.” He looked at Arya pointedly, “You take another ten, okay?” 

Arya’s cheeks warmed and she nodded, pretending to focus on the bulletin board once he’d sauntered back down the hallway. Meera didn’t even wait a moment, for the second Davos was out of sight she turned in her chair. 

“You’re still talking to, how did you put it? The giant with beautiful blue eyes and a humongous co-” 

Arya’s face turned bright red and she squeaked out, “Don’t!” Before she dropped her phone in her lap and out of Meera’s reach, “And yes, I am. But it’s kind of new and I didn’t tell you to avoid _this _kind of conversation exactly.” 

“Good luck with that, Stark.” Meera quipped before tilting her head just so, “Why is his name Bull in your phone?” 

_Because I don’t want to get attached to anyone and it’s easier to separate myself if I don’t know his name. _

“It’s just a bit of fun.” She shrugged, wiping her hands on her slacks and looking at Meera finally. 

“Do tell.” 

There was a pause. 

“After work.” Arya conceded finally, “I’ll share all the gory details you want, so long as you buy me a drink. Or several.” 

“What, is Ser Big Dick not cutting it?” 

“Fucking hells, Meera.” 

* * *

“So, you’re still fucking him?” 

Arya could've killed Meera, for she had no volume control whatsoever and it wasn't nearly late enough for anyone to have drunk enough to miss that. Dodging the curious, and handful of scandalised, glances from around them she buried her face in her hands. 

“No, I’m not if you must know.” 

“Those messages tell a very different story, Arya.” 

“Do they though?” 

“Arya.” 

She sighed, lifting her head and staring at her friend wearily. “What do you want to know?” 

“How long? And what? And how?” Meera grinned, “Oh, and how just how big are we –” 

“Shut up. I told you that in confidence.” 

“It’s still in confidence technically.” 

“Not if you tell the whole bar it isn’t.” Arya groaned before, “If I’m going to tell you, I’m going to need a drink. Or four.” 

* * *

“Arya!” 

“It’s all your fault! I would’ve gone home, hot for the bartender until I woke up and moved on.” 

“Oh, sure.” 

“Shut up, I would’ve!” 

“I saw him, Arya. I saw him and I’ve heard, in graphic detail mind you, what he can do with his hands. Mouth too. You have no regrets, nor should you.” 

“I know.” Arya rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly, to which Meera sighed. 

“Okay, no more teasing. Promise.” She shifted closer and nudged Arya’s shoulder with her own. “But it’s been months and I’m only just finding out now? Why? I’m so happy that you’re happy!” 

“Because it’s weird. A good weird but we’re nothing, honestly.” Arya shrugged, looking bashfully at her friend. “Hells, he ghosted me for two months, Meera.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, believe me I was fully intending on ghosting him right back, but it turns out we have a lot in common.” Arya lit up a little, “He’s rather... sweet. Funny, stubborn as anything.” 

“Sweet?” Meera raised an eyebrow, “You aren’t dating and yet you’re calling him sweet.” 

“Might I continue or are you no longer interested in hearing the story?” 

“It’s a story now, is it?” 

“For fuck’s sake.” 

“Yes, yes. I’m still interested. Please, continue.” 

Arya rolled her eyes and shifted in her seat, “We’ve... got rules.” 

There was a pause, a long, uncomfortable pause. Then Meera’s brows rose so high they nearly met her hairline, her mouth opened and closed several times before finally, “Rules? Okay, elaborate on that.” 

“No real names, no talking about our families or work, beyond what is already known.” Arya said quickly, avoiding Meera's gaze all the while. 

“Makes sense.” Meera eyed Arya curiously and grinned, “There’s more, isn’t there?” 

“We said no sex.” 

“And let me guess...” 

“Nothing’s happened! In person, anyway.” 

“Oh, Arya, you minx. Phone sex?” 

“Just a bit of sexting.” She answered shyly, having suddenly become interested in the patterned linoleum beneath their stools. 

“Just a bit of...” Meera giggled, “That’s beautiful.” 

“Stop!” Arya let out a laugh of her own finally, “It’s the only rule we haven’t stubbornly stuck to. I’d say that’s a valiant effort.” 

“The rules... right. Anonymity isn’t a permanent thing, Arya.” Meera sobered slightly, “You do know that, yeah?” 

“I’m well aware of that.” Arya said, frowning, “But, when it’s over, it’s over. We part way as strangers who just happened to get each other off. There’s no awkward longing from my family who’d gotten attached, or Mum anyway. Dad never really figured out how to talk to Ned and Jon thought he was a tosser anyway.” 

Meera smiled, “He is a tosser.” 

Arya sighed and began picking at her food absently, “I know I should think so but... I’m honestly just glad to be free of pressure. Every family event I felt like Mum was waiting for our next big announcement. I suppose Bran and Robb have the brunt of that weight now which is not much better, but _gods _it was too much. I once said I felt a little bloated while out at lunch and she practically lept out of her skin.” 

“You deserve to be happy, to feel relaxed.” Meera squeezed her hand and grimaced, “I just worry. Nothing is easy, especially not intimacy. Especially not... Dating.” 

“Meera, we’re _not _dating.” 

“Not yet, but who’s to say? You’ve got a bunch in common, clearly find each other attractive and have been talking. Frequently.” The younger woman’s brow rose and she tilted her head slightly, “That may lead to dating, which can't very well happen if you don't know each other's-” 

“I'll stop you right there, thanks.” Arya snorted, “We’ve been texting, sure. Sexting slightly less frequently, okay. But this isn’t a rom-com.” 

“That’s what they all say.” 

“Who is this they you speak of?” 

“Those very same shitty rom-com leads who spend the whole movie rejecting romance only to realise it was there all along.” Meera batted her eyelashes and grinned, “Granted, you’re even more screwed given your guy is _actually _hot.” 

“He’s not mine!” 

“Uh huh. Keep telling yourself that.” Meera shrugged, “Just let me know if you’re going to run through any airports. I’d like to be there to record it, thanks.” 

Arya narrowed her eyes, stealing a few of Meera’s chips and poking her tongue out when she protested. 

“I’m perfectly content keeping it simple. I think I'm owed that much after last time.” 

“After last time.” Meera said, “I never did ask...” 

The sinking feeling in Arya's gut had come to be a familiar beast to tackle, usually her best bet was to breathe slowly and hope for the best. Normally, it also meant ignoring precisely what was bothering her. Meera’s staring, concern furrowing her brows, told Arya she wasn’t dodging this, however. Not this time. 

When finally, Arya explained herself, she couldn’t get the words out quick enough. 

“Well, being with the same guy for three years, moving in together, and then he comes out to you on New Year’s isn't pleasant. For anyone involved. When he brought me out to the balcony, alone, I thought he was going to propose. I didn’t even know which was the worst scenario, which made me feel even shittier.” 

“You shouldn’t feel shit. Not everybody wants to get married, Arya.” 

“Yeah, but the thing is... I didn’t _not _want to. I just didn’t want to get married to him and in those few moments before he said what was going on... I realised it. Then I was left with him crying on my shoulder as everyone inside started counting down.” 

Meera’s hand closed over Arya’s and she squeezed gently, to which Arya managed a weak smile. 

“I never realised, I’m so sorry. I just thought, y’know, you’d grown apart.” 

“I didn’t want anyone to know. Ned didn’t deserve the extra stress on top of it all and frankly, I wasn’t ready to deal with it.” Arya sighed and shook her head, “Which is selfish and I know it. Ned was going through something immensely fucking difficult and all I could think about was how Mum couldn’t find out.” 

“Hey, I’ll hear none of that, thanks.” Meera shifted closer and waited until Arya had looked her way again, “You’re not a bad person for wanting time and space.” Before, “Shit, aren’t you bi? Didn’t he know that?” 

“He was the first person I told after Jon.” She waved a hand dismissively, “But it’s not like my situation at all. His family is very traditional and he felt trapped. With my lot it was a matter of saying _this is me, if you have any questions ask them now and if you don't agree there's the door._” 

“Why am I not surprised you took such a blunt approach?” 

“It’s a part of my charm.” Arya joked lightly before sobering, “That’s why... I need this. At least, I want it. Shouldn’t that be enough?” 

Meera smiled, “It is. But if he’s a weirdo, I’ll have his head.” 

“Thanks, Mum.” 

“I’m serious! Someone will have _my_ head for not intervening otherwise, I just know it.” 

“Yee of little faith, Meera.” Arya grinned, “Besides, if he’s a weirdo I’ll be the first in line to kick his ass.” 

* * *

** Bull: **okay, quick question 

🐺: good afternoon to you too 

** Bull: **good afternoon 

** Bull: **is a foam sword a terrible present for a four year old boy 

🐺: it depends. 

** Bull: ** on what criterion 

🐺: the parents and the boy in question

** Bull: **parents are my brother and his wife they’re both relaxed but not to the point of being bad parents. boy is a rascal who loves dragons 

🐺: get the sword!

** Bull: **thank you as always for your wisdom wolf 

🐺: you need to punctuate! It looks like you just dubbed me wisdom wolf. 

** Bull: **new nickname? 

🐺: hell no 

Only upon rereading the messages later did Arya realise they’d broken another rule. She now knew the Bull had at least one brother and a nephew. 

* * *

“So, Gendry.” 

Davos had gone three weeks without mentioning his son. _Three _. A new record. For that, Arya felt she owed him a little bit more interest than she usually showed. 

“What about him?” She stirred her tea and blew on it, walking away from the counter and expecting him to follow. 

He did, snatching up a muffin as he passed the snacks. “I’ve told you how grumpy he is, haven’t I?” 

“Maybe?” Arya mentally tried to remember a specific instance but came up empty handed. “Remind me, just in case though.” 

It wasn’t unlikely that she’d tuned out his earliest stories about Gendry, out of self-preservation more than anything. She’d been taken when she first started working for Davos, and then when she had been single, too stubborn in her resolve to listen properly. 

“Well, when we first met him, Marya and I that is, he was so quiet. It didn’t match up with what they’d told us about him. The temper and all that.” 

That rang a bell, however. Stories of their potential adoptive son whose inability to play with others, or interact with them on a basic level without starting a fight, making her lips twitch. He'd sounded like a handful, but the way Davos spoke about him was nothing but fond. 

“Uh huh.” 

“But the more we got to know him the more he opened up. He became more present, engaged with us more. Now, Gendry scarcely shuts up with those he knows. If he has an opinion, he lets you know it.” 

Arya couldn’t help the smirk she flashed Davos around her mug as she sat down, gesturing for him to continue as he sat opposite. It seemed he hadn’t been untruthful in comparing her and his youngest son, for she was no different in her inability to swallow her tongue. 

“Recently, as in the last few weeks, he’s gone quiet again.” Davos swallowed, rubbing the nape of his neck. 

She raised an eyebrow, “And?” 

“Marya thinks he might be withdrawing again. He’s not been self-destructive by any means, not since the first few years. But she worries, we both do. I asked Tobho, his boss, and he said that Gendry is working even harder than usual. He’s good with the customers, smiling, being more...” 

“Friendly?” 

“Yes,” Davos nodded fervently, “Friendly! Which isn’t a bad thing but Gendry is...” 

“Broody? Stand-offish?” 

“He’s... Gendry.” Davos said in a tone that was again laden with fondness. “I’m just worried that if I don’t ask what’s going on that I’ll be responsible for whatever comes of... whatever he’s up to.” 

“From all you’ve told me of him, I sincerely doubt he’d purposefully keep things from you. Maybe just give him time. I’m sure he’ll tell you eventually.” 

“I sure hope so, Arya. I love the boy, even if he can be a stubborn pain in my arse.” He smiled widely then, “How’s that? We talked about Gendry and not once did you roll your eyes.” 

“There’s still time, Davos.” 

* * *

Arya missed Jon. The feeling was ever present, but sometimes it faded to nothing more than a dull ache. 

But it was his birthday and he hadn’t picked up his phone. The ache grew, permeating every interaction she'd had during the day. She knew, they all did, that his placement was only temporary. But it hadn’t made the two years and eight months of separation any easier on the closest of the Stark siblings. 

Though, Bran and Rickon would argue they were a tie for the position. 

Her eyes were heavy and she was close to dozing off in front of the tv by the time her phone lit up with a photo of Jon’s smiling face from a road trip four years earlier. 

“I’m so sorry.” was his greeting, “I’ve been trying to find somewhere with signal for a fucking hour!” 

Arya felt her disappointment fade and she teasingly asked, “Tell me again why you moved all the way out there? The lack of heating, entertainment, signal, favourite sisters...” 

“The girls, Arya. The girls.” 

They both laughed and just like that, the ache began to fade. Her bad mood was forgotten and she felt herself smile for the first time all day. 

“Oh, shit!” Arya called out suddenly, before launching into a shaky, toneless version of ‘happy birthday’. 

* * *

The following day, after she'd slept in to nearly midday, came the second of her chances to break a rule. She'd initiated the addition of a sexting rule, he'd initiated the exclusion of a sex ban and asked her advice on family things. 

It was only fair that Arya catch up and she wasn't afraid to admit, it was for purely selfless reasons. 

🐺 : okay, how did my brother (who lives beyond the wall btw) know about the brotherhood breaking up before we did?!

**Bull:** wait WHAT 

Arya's laptop was set on the ottoman before her and sure enough, hours after Jon had broken the news, every news site said the same. 

** _ BROTHERHOOD WITHOUT BANNERS ANNOUNCE BREAKUP. _ **

_ Lead singer announces via social media that the beloved band will no longer be recording or touring. While _ _ Dondarrion _ _ didn’t say why, sources report that the musician wishes to spend more time with his family. While we all mourn the loss of the rock legends, we send them all the best. _

Arya read it over three times, finally responding when the shock had worn off. 

🐺: THEY'RE DONE 

**Bull:** you're telling me they released that absolute abomination of an album and NOW decide to disappear 

🐺: I know right? I am disgusted 

**Bull:** i can't believe this 

**Bull:** best find a new band to obsess over, eh? any suggestions 

🐺: leave it with me. also congratulations on remembering the question mark!

**Bull:** oh my gods, shut up

* * *

Arya had another truly horrendous day at work, ruining what had been a relaxing weekend. 

Her mood only brightened when the Brotherhood's old work came on through her earphones. She refused to acknowledge why, even as she shot off a new album ranking to the Bull. 

It seemed she wasn't the only one who was having a rough time though. 

** Bull: ** do you ever want to quit your job and move beyond the wall

🐺: every other thursday, why? 

** Bull: ** between the bar and my other job i haven't seen my dad in a fortnight and he's convinced i'm up to something

🐺: a fortnight??? wow, terrible son alert 

🐺: i'm joking 

** Bull: ** hahah so funny 

** Bull: ** honestly though, he won't hear a word of me just being busy with work. he thinks i'm seeing someone

Arya paused at that, biting on her lip as she typed and re-typed a response. 

🐺: your parents are overly invested in your love life too? 

** Bull: ** oh, definitely. ma isn't overbearing or anything but i can see it when everyone's together. meanwhile dad is far less subtle

** Bull: ** i may have gotten a bit sharp with him on the phone at lunch

🐺: how bad?  


**Bull: **i told him to butt his nose out and if he kept it up i'd become a priest. no kids, no marriage. nothing. 

🐺: oh?

🐺: wait, have you ever seen fleabag?

* * *

The next rule break wasn’t so much of a breaking as it was a redetermining of boundaries. A redetermining of boundaries that happened after a very distinct breaking of rules. Arya plead her innocence in the whole thing, but she was just as guilty as the Bull. 

She’d long grown used to the way her entire kitchen counter vibrated when a message came through on her phone, so she no longer startled. Even if she was in the middle of washing dishes after her dinner for one, which had been a soup before she'd burnt it. Now it had taken on a new form as grime on her favourite pot.

The Bull had a tendency to message when she was knee deep in work, or evidently, elbow deep in sudsy hot water. His bad timing only sought to endear her though, as did his near perpetual grumpiness and aversion to social media. Even if she'd wanted to know his name, she'd have no way of finding it. 

He was as much a ghost as she wanted to be. 

She leaned over to catch the beginnings of his message and grinned. 

** Bull: **I can’t keep calling you Wolf when I 

The screen dimmed, but she still took her time drying everything, more out of a need to let him stew than a desire to stand up for any longer than she already had at work. She had discovered that he was easy to wind up and it delighted her more than a little when he frustratedly declared her a right pain in his ass. Interestingly, her retort that it could be arranged didn’t incense him further, it only led to more lewd messages. 

When she finally retrieved her phone and retreated to her room, the full message was no less hilarious. 

** Bull: **I can’t keep calling you Wolf when I come. It’s weird! 

🐺: because my calling you bull when I do is far more normal? Also, who are you??? Using capitalisation like a normal person out of nowhere. 

** Bull: **I updated my phone and it automatically punctuates everything, don’t get excited.

🐺: damn, here I was thinking I'd lectured you to the point of submission...

** Bull: **no need for a lecture, just ask nicely 

🐺: smooth, bull 

🐺: okay I think I see your point 

🐺: are we really about to break another rule? 

** Bull: **I mean, if you’re alright with it. 

🐺: motion passed. 

** Bull: **so... what do I call you? 

🐺: right to the point then? 

** Bull **: Don’t judge me. I’ve got the night off work 

🐺: say no more 

It had been a long day, juggling Davos’ meetings as the man himself desperately sought to bring some calm to the warehouse floor, dodging calls from her mother as she attempted to comfort Arya following the announcement of Ned’s surprise engagement. Engagement to someone she’d introduced him to, as if it weren’t bad enough already. 

She needed a distraction. Clearly so did he. 

🐺: will my giving you permission to call me Arry ease the strangeness of it all and let us move on to the fun part of the evening? 

** Bull: **perhaps. 

** Bull: **Arry suits you 

** Bull: ** I like it 

Arya bit her lip, hating the way something so corny had made her entire face warm. 

** Arry: **shut up. 

** Bull: **you’re so mean when you’re horny, Arry 

** Arry: **get your pants off and stop being weird. 

** Bull: **aye aye captain 

Arya rolled her eyes at that and hit call, lifting the phone to her ear as she shimmied her shorts down. It rang twice as sat back on the bed and reclined against her ridiculous stack of pillows, but was picked up before it could hit a third. 

“Well, hello.” Came the deep voice at the other end of the phone, “This is a first. And another broken rule, if I’m not mistaken.” 

Firsts. Something one expected in relationships – first kiss, first date, first fight. She’d had so many of them with Ned, a lot of them she hadn’t ever really cared about experiencing _ until _him. Her stomach churned at the thought but she pushed it away, determined to get through the night without obsessing over it. 

It was usually easier said than done, his voice certainly helped things though. 

“Don’t get comfortable with it, stupid. I can’t very well text and wank like last time, my hand was cramped all of the next day at work.” 

“Sexy.” 

“Are you ever not a smug prick?” 

“Couldn’t tell you, honestly.” 

“You’re too much.” Arya laughed, earnestly and loudly. 

“You say that and yet, you called _me.” _

_ “ _Yes, your smarminess is absolutely irresistible.” She sighed dramatically, her hand resting low on her stomach. “Makes me all...” 

She heard a sharp intake of breath, and despite her teasing she knew she had him hook, line and sinker. 

“All?” 

Arya bit her lip to stifle the laugh that threatened to leave her mouth, drumming her fingers lazily as she dragged her hand down along her thigh. 

“All wet.” 

“G-gods.” He growled hoarsely, sending more heat to the pit of Arya’s stomach. In the background was the undeniable sound of skin moving over skin and it shouldn’t have been as arousing as it was. 

Yet, Arya cupped herself like a horny teenager nonetheless. 

“You like that?” 

“Just a bit.” He managed before a particularly low whine hit her ears. “Your voice is even nicer than I remembered.” 

Arya’s face warmed as she struggled to respond. So often she’d been told her voice was deeper than people expected, solemn even when she was trying to be funny. To have someone call her voice nice of all things was unexpected. It made her stomach flop, but for once it wasn’t unpleasant. 

“Arry, you still there?” 

“Still here.” She answered, swallowing roughly, “Keep talking.” 

“You want me to talk about that night?” He asked, tone erring on hesitant. 

At first, she paused. Her fingers frozen just before where she wanted them most – where she already knew her long, thin fingers couldn't match up to his. 

It didn’t take much to picture that night once she tried. His breath hot against her ear, all as his roughened fingers found that spot repeatedly. She could almost feel his tongue leaving a wet path along her jaw as he pressed insistently against her clit, could almost hear the satisfied chuckle he’d let out as she came. 

“P-please.” She finally responded, unable to keep the desperation out of her voice. 

“You want me to say how tight you were around me? How wet?” Her confirmation had done something, for the hesitation was gone. It had been replaced with the same harmless, alluring smugness he’d had on that night. “Gods, you were so wet around my fingers, Arry. I still think about it.” 

“When?” She pressed her thumb against her clit hard and her voice came out a breathy moan. 

“Always. In the shower, in bed.” She heard him swallow and imagined his exposed throat as he threw his head back, eyes squeezed tight as he touched himself. “At work.” He added after a moment, “Drives me mad.” 

Arya made to retort, even as she felt herself growing wetter against her fingers. He beat her to the punch though, his voice truly wrecked when he growled. 

“_You _drive me mad.” 

Her thighs pressed together tightly and she moaned loudly, her free hand coming up to cover her mouth. Her phone was resting between her ear and shoulder, a precarious position when she was relying on being able to hear him but it was safer than loudspeaker. She wasn’t exactly looking to broadcast what she was up to, not to Hot Pie, nor Lommy. 

“More.” She pleaded, circling her entrance teasingly with two fingers. “Please.” 

She could hear his breathing coming out in pants, could hear as his phone shifted and he trapped it between his shoulder and ear. She didn’t have to think hard to imagine how he might look; stomach bared, tattoos too if Arya had a say in it. Then, the image of his cock, thick and curved up towards his stomach came to mind. 

“Do you think about me, Arry?” 

“Yes.” Arya stammered, pushing her fingers in as her legs splayed further. She had to bite down on her lip, hard, to stop another moan from echoing. “Your fingers... Your mouth.” 

“My mouth? I recall someone saying that was going to get me into all sorts of trouble.” 

“You. Do talk a lot.” She managed, eyes fluttering shut as she sought out a rhythm, any rhythm. 

“Not hearing a complaint, am I?” 

“Never.” She shifted, her fingers curling in hope that she’d find the spot she _knew _would send her over the edge. He hadn’t even broken a sweat in finding it, in making her moan and seek out more. 

It made her yearn for that night. 

Made her yearn for him. 

Then, she brushed it and a small delighted noise left her mouth. Her back arched off her bed slightly and she pressed her thighs together, moving her fingers more intently against it. 

“Oh, I know that sound.” He chuckled softly, “Found it, beautiful?” 

“Oh god, don’t stop. Please.” 

“Don’t rush it,” He cooed, “You’re doing so well.” 

“Tell me.” Arya said breathlessly, “Tell me what to do.” 

There was barely a second’s pause before he cleared his throat and she slowed her movements, awaiting anything to help her get there. 

“Spread your legs.” 

She didn’t argue, didn’t lie, she merely forced herself to spread out. The cool air from her fan made her shiver and she heard another chuckle come down the phone. 

“Now, take your thumb and rub your clit. Nothing too hard or fast.” 

Arya closed her eyes again and pressed her thumb against her clit – maintaining a consistently slow pace. 

“How’s that feel?” 

“So good...” She murmured, “But not enough.” 

“You still have your fingers right there?” 

“Yes.” 

“Start moving them too, keep it slow.” 

Arya did just that, the embarrassment at the slick noises her fingers produced fading as the warmth in her stomach increased. She wanted him there, against her, inside her. Only now did she know how much. He’d be smug, sure, at how easily they’d both conceded to breaking the rules. But it’d be worth it. 

He’d be worth it. 

She lost track of how long her fingers worked, thumb moving harder against her clit as he instructs, fingers crooking just so. The coil tightens, the warmth spreads, she starts to move her hips up against her hand desperately. All in hopes that the coil will finally snap, as it has so many times. 

But this is different. 

“Come for me, Arry.” He murmured suddenly and Arya gasped. 

That damned voice is what did her in. 

And that’s how she knew. 

“Fuck!” She felt her thighs shut hard as her climax rendered her speechless beyond a few pitiful moans. It wracked her entire body, her back arching off the bed as her slick fingers fell away. 

His release followed quickly, his hand moving faster as the expletives fell freely, until finally with a relieved grunt, he came. 

* * *

She laid there for a minute or two after, eyes blinking sleepily as she considered falling asleep right then and there. A good orgasm always rendered her content, pliant. Even as she became acutely aware of what they’d done. 

“B-better than texting?” He asked after another minute and she could hear his amusement, even as his voice wavered. 

“I’d say so.” She panted, sitting up to readjust the phone. “Thanks for that.” 

“Least I could do.” He sounded like he was smiling and Arya smiled too at the thought, “I appreciate... this, y’know?” 

Arya’s cheeks warmed, “Yeah, back at you.” 

“Nah, honestly.” She heard him move about before his tone softened, “Thanks, Arry.” 

“It’s no problem.” Arya felt silly, her voice sounding breathy and her face a dark shade of red. 

When he replied she could hear him smirking, if that were possible, “I’m hoping my efforts in the return were appreciated also.” 

“Oh, shut it.” She sighed, “What I have appreciated is the absence of the smugness.” 

He laughed loudly and then something moved against the speaker before, “Shit, sorry. I’ve just seen the time. If I want to be anything resembling a human at work tomorrow, I gotta hit the hay.” 

Arya tutted, “Work on a Sunday?” 

“Sadly.” He replied, then added softly, “Night, Arry.” 

“Night.” She smiled widely, “Sleep tight.”

It was only upon hanging up that she realised he’d never made to tell her his name. 

* * *

Arya was stirring pasta at the stove, her forehead damp and cheeks flushed as she tried to save it from burning. It was her night to cook and she didn’t need it going as spectacularly wrong as it had the last time. Her efforts were in no way helped by her roommates arguing like children in the background. 

“Arya, please tell Lommy he’s wrong!” 

“About what?” She ground out, wiping at her face with her sleeve. 

“He says that I’ll still be single by New Year's.” Harry whined, sitting at the kitchen counter and resting his chin in his hands. “He says we both will be.” 

“It’s not like any of us actually goes out and meets new people.” Lommy pointed out as he opened the fridge and poked around, “If any of us has a shot at finding someone though, it’s _me _.” 

Arya was willing to let the argument slide, for the two of them always found something to fight about eventually. She had no desire to inject herself into every petty squabble of theirs, she had better things to do. Like feign self-sufficiency and avoid another night of vigorous pot scrubbing. 

Until, Harry spoke up again. 

“You’re wrong!” Harry argued, “Arry’s already got you beat.” 

Her face felt even warmer at that and she spun around, pot forgotten as she stared him down. 

“What?” She said quietly, “Who said I’ve found anyone?” 

“You’re always disappearing into your room and we can hear you giggling.” Lommy mumbled from behind the fridge door, “Hot Pie figured you were sneaking someone in... Or at least talking to someone.” 

_ I need to soundproof my room. _

_ Or, get new roommates. _

“It’s nothing.” Arya shook her head and turned the stovetop down. “Besides, Harry always pulls well before you do, Lommy. You _ are _wrong.” 

At that, Lommy kicked up more of a fuss and the argument continued without another mention of Arya’s love life or sexual prospects. She considered that a small win. 

Later, when dinner had been eaten and they were all relaxing in their respective rooms, Arya felt a tad guilty over having lied. But it wasn’t as if there _ was _anything there. She hadn’t been sneaking the Bull into her room, so much as she’d been engaging in some simultaneous heavy petting over the phone. 

Huge difference. 

Harry and Lommy's behaviour now only further validated her decision to keep the Bull to herself. Though certainly not in _that_ way. 

Not even after their broken rules had she broached whatever she'd felt that night. 

It was too much. 

She couldn't risk it, not now. 

* * *

The latter half of the year was always messy. But it was verging on cruel in how little free time Arya had between work and family events by the time it hit September. The only reprieve she found was in the back and forth between herself and the Bull, though she’d never have admitted he was the cause of her good mood. Their little calls had turned into a semi-regular occurrence and personal conversations, while still prohibited by the essentially defunct rules, were becoming commonplace. 

Arya knew that he worked two jobs: the bar on most weeknights and a mechanics three days a week. He preferred the latter as it meant blasting music, though the Brotherhood no longer featured, and working on cars he admired. She knew that he had more siblings than he knew what to do with, but he loved them all the same. 

She’d told him of Jon, though it was usually when she was missing him particularly bad. She’d tell him of their childhood, for as long as they'd lived under the same roof, and how despite everything he still tried to be there for her. Arya largely avoided talk of why she’d struggled at his having left again after the holidays and the Bull said not a word when she diverted the conversation. She told him about having just as large and loud a family as he did. On how she adored her father, how her mother could be a lot but meant well. She spoke on how her sister was much the same and how her brothers were very loveable, lanky messes. None of it lessened her exasperation at times, but she loved them fiercely and she knew the feeling was mutual.

It seemed that both their dads were technologically unsavvy, dorky and prone to tearing up at the prospect of grandchildren. Neither Arya nor the Bull could conceal their fondness, to which the former found herself liking the latter even more. 

Meera continued to ask questions about what was going on, but Arya was firm in her reasoning that neither of them were interested in a relationship. 

Even if she knew she was bullshitting as she said it. 

* * *

September only got worse when a week before his fiftieth birthday, Ned Stark took a tumble. 

Arya got a call in the middle of the afternoon, from her very panicked mother, and was in her car less than five minutes later. Davos had been incredibly understanding, even when a slightly amused and very exasperated Arya explained the next morning that he’d been texting Robb as he walked down some stairs at his work and had broken his leg. It wasn’t anything too serious, at least not nearly as serious as Arya had been led to believe. 

If she had told the Bull about the whole mess as she waited for dinner to arrive that night, she mentioned not a word of it to Meera.

It had led Catelyn to institute a stern, if not slightly over the top, phone ban whilst walking rule to the entire family. She couldn’t enforce it when half her family were hours away, but Arya still felt a little guilty when she found herself messaging the Bull on the walk into work each morning. Even if it meant she got particularly adorable messages when she did so. 

**Bull: **good morning, Arry. please ensure you are seated before replying. 

When she'd entered work and been questioned on the size of her grin, she merely blushed and headed right for the coffee.

* * *

Despite his broken leg, her dad's birthday was a lovely affair for all involved. 

Arya, Sansa and Robb all visited Winterfell for the weekend, surprising their father who spent much of the time grumbling in his recliner as everyone doted on him. Arya complained about how tall Rickon was getting, now a few inches above her, teased Jon’s ever-growing hair as he wasn’t around to defend himself, and let her mum fuss over her. But only to an extent. 

Catelyn had sighed loudly at her resistance and Arya snorted at the clear resemblance between her mother and sister. When displeased, it was equally visible on their faces, and their scowls rendered delicate features terrifying. 

When she said as much Sansa laughed loudly and Catelyn couldn’t resist joining in. Arya silently noted that Sansa had smiled more in those few hours than she had in a long while. 

Similarly, Arya hadn’t eaten so much in months, feeling as if her many days of relying on cheap tinned soups and sandwiches was more than made up for. Though Catelyn nagged relentlessly, Arya had to admit that she never looked after herself nearly as well as her mum had. Nothing felt like home did. 

Things only grew louder and messier when Robb and Jeyne announced they were having a baby, prompting a teary Ned to toast the entire family. Arya couldn’t even begrudge the soppiness given her own tears at the title of Aunt Arya. Eventually someone had called Jon, though the connection was shaky, and they talked until the call dropped out. 

It was dusk by the time everyone had shared their good news, with Bran gushing over his & Jojen’s apartment, Rickon proclaiming his newfound love of football, and Uncle Benjen’s surprise appearance for dinner – though it only consisted of whatever leftovers everyone could stomach. Arya had gorged herself on cold meats and bread by the time Benjen bid a goodnight to all, with few regrets, even as Rickon sought fit to kick his football right at her stomach moments later. 

When finally, it came time for bed, Arya crawled into the daybed with a sleepy smile on her face. Nymeria had made her home at the end of it, with Arya’s assistance. Of the Stark pups, she and Ghost were all that remained – except Ghost was over the Wall with Jon, leaving only her old girl to walk around the yard. 

It made Arya’s heart hurt and she knew the rest of the family felt each loss hard. But that was the thing about loving – you gave the other person, or in this case animal, a spot in your heart. Often times, it wasn’t up to you what they did with that spot. 

The thought made a small smile cross her face as she realised that not a mention of Ned, nor her love life at all, had passed anyone’s lips for the entire evening. Nor had thought of him crossed her mind, even as she watched Bran introducing their uncle to Jojen over facetime, or as Robb gushed over Jeyne’s non-existent bump. In fact, the only person who’d she’d thought of was the Bull. She wondered how he’d fit in, if he would at all. 

Would he entertain Bran’s long-winded philosophical discussions of science fiction books he was reading? Would he kick a ball back and forth with Rickon as the young boy swore up a storm? 

Would her mother like him? 

Would her father? 

There was no lump in her stomach as she thought it all over, no uncontrollable panic. Instead, she found herself smiling. 

* * *

Sansa was already eating breakfast when Arya got up the next morning, with a crick in her back but that same sleepy smile on her face. 

“You’re up early.” Sansa commented around a yawn, her tea still steeping on the counter. 

“You seem to forget that I was stuck with a pullout too.” Arya smiled, ducking slightly to press a kiss to her sister’s head. “Surprised I slept as long as I did, honestly.” 

“That’s what we get for letting Mum turn our rooms into another fucking craft room and a study for Rick. As if he ever bloody uses it!” 

“Wouldn’t surprise me if the whole house is overrun with scrapbooking supplies come Christmas.” Arya snorted, “As for Rick, I’m not sure I have any right to criticise his inability to finish homework.” 

“A good reminder of what _ not _to buy her for Christmas.” Sansa laughed, then rolled her eyes, “Oh, believe me when I say I remember you rushing to finish assignments during breakfast. It still gives me anxiety.” 

“You and me both.” Arya replied, flicking the kettle back on as she leaned against the kitchen island. 

Sansa shook her head amusedly then looked up, “You look... tired. I don’t suppose you managed to avoid any N-e-d talk last night?” 

“Actually, I did. There wasn’t a word of it, not even as Robb cooed endlessly over Jeyne.” 

“Gods, that’s fantastic. I was worried when all the relationship talk started.” 

“Not a fan either?” 

“Not anymore,” Sansa shrugged, “Not after everything with Joffrey and telling Mum that I’m...” 

“As straight as a slinky?” 

“Something like that, yeah.” She laughed, her cheeks flushing as she stood up to remove the teabag from her mug. 

“I’m glad though. That you felt like you could and that everyone was supportive.” 

“It’s not as if I had any doubts after you loudly declared you’d snog Margaery Tyrell’s face off, smirk and all.” 

“Listen, she’s a very beautiful woman and not even my supposed heterosexuality could contain my thirst.” 

“Arya, oh my gods.” Sansa’s shoulders shook as she tried not to snort, before gesturing to the fridge, “Milk?” 

“Milk,” Arya nodded and turned, opening the fridge and grinning as she pulled the carton out. “Listen, it’s not like you were any more subtle. I knew for ages. Not saying I was the first to know but, I was definitely the first to know.” 

“Oh, really now?” Her sister’s lips twitched as she poured a splash of milk into her tea and set the carton down. 

“Yeah, why do you think I stopped arguing with you all the time? If I’d realised _ why _you were such a megabitch I’d have stopped sooner!” 

“Megabitch?” 

“I had many hours to craft insults, Sansa. Don’t question my process now.” 

“Gods, you’re a weirdo.” 

“Yes, yes I am.”

* * *

Arya wanted to look at her phone. And bad. Which was while Sansa and her were meant to be driving out in the late afternoon, she still agreed to an early lunch with the _ girls _. Catelyn said it as if they were a club or something, an invite only kind of deal – which Arya supposed was kind of true. 

She wondered if she should make them all jackets up for Christmas as a joke. 

Eating little pastries and talking about nonsense had never really been Arya’s cup of tea, hells she didn’t even drink tea. But now that she was an adult and didn’t actively seek to avoid her mother and sister’s ladylike gatherings, she was content to entertain them. Between Catelyn, Sansa, Jeyne and her there was plenty to talk about. 

Somehow, it still came back to relationships – in the most subtle way possible, in true Catelyn Stark fashion. 

“So, my darlings.” She smiled widely, looking to Sansa and Arya pointedly. “Jeyne’s been sharing all sorts of good news. Tell me what’s going on with you!” 

Sansa gave her a look and Arya grimaced, signalling the waiter for another drink. 

“Mum,” Sansa sighed, “I’m not seeing anyone, if that’s what you want to know. I’m just working on myself at the moment.” 

“The store is getting super busy.” Arya piped up. 

“It really is.” Sansa agreed, “You’ll see if you come down for Christmas!” 

Catelyn’s lips pursed and she eyed Sansa carefully, making Arya stifle a grin as she watched the women stare one another down. 

“I don’t mean to pry.” Catelyn finally relaxed, “I just want to see you happy, Sansa. You struggled for so long and I feel as if I were no help.” 

None of them really talked about how pressured Sansa had felt to maintain her relationship with Joffrey, even as his treatment of her worsened and her identity fell into place. It showed even now in the tightness around Sansa’s eyes as she looked away, nodding slowly. 

“I know, Mum.” she said quietly, “I’m just taking my time. If it happens, it happens.” 

“And it will.” 

Arya seized her glass eagerly as the waiter returned, taking a hearty sip of her cocktail and humming happily. 

“What about you, Arya?” 

She felt like a deer in headlights, mouth frozen over her drink as her mother waited expectantly. 

“What about me?” Arya asked, raising an eyebrow, “If you mean to ask if I’m seeing anyone...” 

“Are you?” 

It wasn’t Catelyn who asked, but Jeyne. She’d remained silent during the interrogation, one hand resting affectionately against her stomach, and now saw fit to cast more of a spotlight on an unwilling Arya. 

“No.” She answered quickly, “Nope. Very single and loving it.” 

_More like it's complicated and I'd like that to change._

“Oh?” Jeyne’s face took on a look of confusion, “My apologies. You’re just so... happy. Not that you aren’t normally, it’s just different. When you were with Ned it was like you had to try to be happy, whereas now you are.” 

Arya felt all eyes on her and her face warmed as she sunk back in her seat. 

“I’m just enjoying myself.” Arya mumbled, “That’s all.” 

“To enjoying yourself!” Sansa toasted loudly, louder than the quiet setting required, and Arya saw precisely why she and Meera got along. 

* * *

Leaving Winterfell was always more painful than Arya wanted to admit, especially after having spent the weekend cooked and cared for in the cold. She’d missed her dad, even if his move back home had been for the best as his health deteriorated, and it seemed the feeling was mutual as they bid each other goodbye. 

“Look at you.” Ned smiled, cupping her cheek affectionately, “So grown up.” 

“I don’t feel like much of a grown up.” Arya admitted, smiling sadly. “What have I got to show for it? A degree I don't use, one failed relationship...” 

“A family who loves you, friends who adore you.” He said easily, “A good job and a wise head on your shoulders.” Then he tapped her nose with one finger gently, “You don’t give yourself enough credit, little one.” 

She looked down at the ground and didn’t realise she was crying until he lifted her chin gently and tutted. 

“No tears.” 

“Sorry.” She wiped at her eyes and sniffed, “I just feel like I’m letting you and Mum down.” 

“Why ever would you think that?” 

“In the last year my life has taken, like, five giant leaps backwards.” 

“Five leaps, forwards or backwards, is a risk. We’re proud no matter what, I promise.” 

Arya smiled slightly, “You are?” 

“We certainly are. Pack is pack, you know that.” 

She swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling her eyes swim all over again, before she threw her arms tight around him. He was wrapping his arms around her in a second and they stood like that until Robb and Jeyne bid their goodbyes. 

Sansa suggested that they leave soon after, having been kind enough to drive. It took them another half hour to give everyone hugs goodbye and then all that was left to do was wave madly until home was out of sight. 

* * *

The heat was oppressive and her shirt was clinging to her back as she pulled her bags from Sansa’s car. Even then, she couldn’t deny that the sun beating down on her face felt amazing. 

“I can’t wait to sleep in my own bed.” Sansa sighed, stretching out her arms before shielding her face from the sun as she looked around. “You weren’t wrong about the pullouts being absolutely atrocious.” 

“Reckon that’s what Jeyne said to Robb?” 

“Arya!” 

She merely laughed in response and set the last of her things on the sidewalk, leaving Sansa to shake her head disapprovingly, though a smile was threatening to break out on her face. 

Arya straightened up and smiled right back, “Drive safe, yeah?” 

“Always do.” Sansa pulled her sister close, squeezed her tight and murmured, “Whoever they are, they better get their act together.” 

Her hands froze against Sansa’s back and she frowned, “Sans?” 

Sansa pulled away and looked Arya in the eyes, “You’ve given enough of yourself already. Believe me, I know and I can see it. Just let me know if you _ever _need to talk. Or, if you need someone to help discard of a body.” 

Arya snorted, “I’ll let you know. But... for once, I'm feeling optimistic.” 

* * *

**Bull: **how's it feel to be back 

**Arry: **awful. has it always been this fucking hot or did I just get too comfortable back in the snow?

**Bull: **would it make you feel better to say both?

**Arry: **not in the slightest

**Arry: **I'm suddenly incredibly grateful that I work in an office with meat freezer level air conditioning

**Bull: **can we switch places? I'm not so sure my boss knows what air conditioning is

**Bull: **I think he was born when the Storm Kings were still in power

**Bull: **he probably knew Aegon 

**Arry: **which one

**Bull: **idk, the first one?

**Arry: **didn't you pay attention in history?

**Bull: **only when it pertained to the Storm Kings

**Arry: **I'm so disgusted right now

* * *

Returning to work was relaxed by this point in her time with Davos. Sure, she missed her family something fierce – with each year bringing more changes and more distance. But Davos had begun to feel like family, Meera too, even if she had started slipping more questions about the Bull into their conversations. 

Nothing seemed quite as right as slipping into Davos’ office to find him talking animatedly. 

“No, no.” Davos was on his phone when Arya arrived on her first day back, documents in hand and a bright smile on her face. When they made eye contact, he gestured her in, talking all the while. “If you’re coming home, we’ll pay for the flights.” 

Arya made herself comfortable in the seat opposite his desk and watched as he frowned, his mouth disappearing into the bushy beard surrounding it. 

“Yes, I’m sure, Devan, and I’ll hear nothing to the contrary. Understood?” 

There was a few moment’s pause where Davos merely tapped his foot and frowned some more, but then something must’ve changed for his mood brightened considerably. 

“Wonderful. Yes, we love you too. Give your girls a kiss from us? Bye.” With that, Davos tapped his phone and beamed at Arya. 

“Family?” 

“Yes,” He sighed happily as he settled into his own chair, “Holiday arrangements have begun and with eight children to congregate... You can imagine, I’m sure.” 

“Holiday arrangements?” Arya grinned, “I’m glad to have avoided that so far.” 

“Mmm , yes. It’s never too early where the Seaworth’s are concerned.” Davos tapped his lip with his pen, “We’ve got more than our children to worry about now. Four grandkids and one on the way, cousins and their spouses. We’ve kin from here to the Wall.” 

“Got your work cut out for you then. Do you need any help?” 

“Not quite yet, but it’s much appreciated.” Before his eyes twinkled, “Arya?” 

“Yes, Davos?” 

“I’ll be calling Gendry shortly. Should I put in a good word?” 

Her response was the middle finger as she left the room. She thought nothing of the timing with which the Bull next texted her. 

**Bull:** hey, I'm working Wednesday night. did you want to meet up at the bar and talk?

Arya couldn't reply fast enough. 

**Arry: **Wednesday it is 😀

* * *

**Meera: **so, how goes the bull riding 

**Arya: **fucking hells 

**Meera:** do you wear red when you hook up? 

**Arya:** the red thing is a myth, Meera. Everybody knows that 

**Arya:** and no I don't

**Meera: **you’re just mad because that was fucking HILARIOUS 

* * *

It seemed Davos wasn’t the only one busily preparing for the holiday season, with Arya having fielded no less than a dozen phone calls from her mother on the subject since her conversation with the older man. Her phone buzzed again after she’d sent an apparently offensive text message inferring she mightn’t be making it home this year. 

She was riding her bike home, earbuds hanging down from her helmet as she bit back a groan. Her car was in the shop and she figured she could probably do with the fresh air, sadly it meant she couldn’t use her car’s lack of phone connectivity as an excuse. 

Resigning herself, finally, to whatever argument she was getting herself into, she answered. 

“Don’t make me tell your brothers, Arya. They’ll be gutted.” 

“Hello to you too, Mum.” 

“Hello, darling.” Catelyn replied, her tone clipped. “Now, what’s this about not coming home for the holidays?” 

Part of Arya wanted to point out the semantics of calling Winterfell home when she wasn’t living there, despite the fact that she still called it home. She decided against it. 

“I can’t give you a definitive answer for a while yet, that’s all.” She held her arm out to the right and turned, “Davos needs all the help he can get. He’s already overworked and it’d be a cruel Christmas gift to leave him in the lurch.” 

“He’d understand and, might I add, you needn’t overwork yourself either. I’m not about to tell everyone that you’d rather work than come home to see us all.” 

“It’s not that I’d rather work.” Arya huffed, though amidst conversations like this she could see the appeal, “I’ll come by for New Years and my birthday, how’s that?” 

“Arya. ” 

“Mum.” 

“At least talk to Davos about it, please.” 

Arya blinked, once, twice. She watched the lights go from red to green again and sighed. 

“Fine.” She conceded reluctantly, though an idea came to mind and she added, “If not, you could all just come down here? Robb lives close by and gods know that Bran is always banging on about visiting Sansa and I. It’s not like Dad hates it here either, he’s the one who got us up here in the first place.” 

There was a moment’s pause before she heard her mother sigh. Times like that, it wasn’t Sansa who embodied their mother but Arya. 

“I suppose that could be an alternative.” She sounded reluctant until, “I could probably do with the sun.” 

“Fantastic.” Arya grinned, feeling the small victory, “I’ve got to run, but I’ll talk to you later. Love you!” 

She pressed the button on her earphones, ending the call quickly, and parked her bike outside her building. Fanning her face as best she could, Arya prayed to every god, of old and new, that her car would be ready sooner rather than later.

* * *

Arya's Tuesday night had consisted of bad television, delicious cheese, and a cheap glass of wine. So, by all measures, it had been a pleasant one. 

It got even better when she got the text message telling her that her car was ready to be picked up the following afternoon - mere weeks before Christmas. She could pick up the decorations she'd organised for Davos' Christmas get-together, after all he'd recruited her services after the apparent success that had been Gendry's party. 

Arya wasn't sure what to think about being dubbed _the _party planner, but Davos had caught her in a moment of charitability. She wasn't to be blamed. 

That wasn't even touching on how excited Arya was to pick up Jon from the airport and show him around, even if he'd dumped on her without warning that he was bringing someone. She supposed that made the following night's events all the more important, for she was just as eager to introduce Jon to the Bull. 

But first that meant properly introducing herself to the man she was halfway in love with. 

* * *

Meera's expertise laid in very peculiar fields in Arya's experience. 

She knew what kinds of plants thrived in swamps, could speak four languages, only two of which were real, and had apparently accumulated a guide on King's Landing's best utilities. Such as where Arya should take her car when it died on her three weeks earlier. When the timing had coincided with her going away, so Meera had been kind enough to take her car in for her while Sansa drove them down to Winterfell. 

Now it was Meera’s turn to drive Arya around, patient as Arya talked over her plans for the evening. 

“So, you’ve gone this long without names.” Meera let out a disbelieving laugh, “A valiant effort, I must say. What do you think his name is? I reckon it’s something rugged. Like Joe.” 

“Joe?” Arya raised an eyebrow, “You think Joe is a rugged name?” 

At that, Meera shrugged, “I don’t know. I’m just spit balling. Have you got a better guess?” 

In all honesty, Arya hadn’t thought much about it at all. He was the Bull; he would be until he said otherwise. She supposed it might be a bit odd to admit as much, especially when she’d spent so much time talking to him. 

“Honestly, so long as it isn’t Ned, I’m happy.” 

“Oh, Gods. Imagine the luck!” 

“I can’t recall smashing any mirrors recently, so you’d hope that I’m not that cursed.” 

Meera laughed, “I never did ask you if it was weird.” 

Arya made to reply but they turned the corner and Arya spotted it – her old rustbucket, her dearest friend. 

“My baby!” She cooed, ignoring the way Meera groaned beside her. 

“You know, I was hoping they’d call it a day on the old boy. It’s running on fumes, Arya.” 

Arya glared at her friend half-heartedly as Meera pulled in beside the other car, “There’s still life in him yet.” 

“Barely.” 

They continued to bicker light-heartedly as they got out, with Arya conceding defeat when the mechanic emerged. He was an older, bald man with wiry arms – peering at them both through his smudged glasses. 

“Reed?” He asked. 

“No, sorry. Meera dropped the car off for me, Arya Stark?” 

“Oh, right.” The man pursed his lips, thumbing through papers as Arya’s gaze wandered to his name tag. 

_ Tobho. _

It wasn’t a particularly common name but it rang a bell. 

“Here we go! Stark.” He smiled up at Arya then, grey eyes twinkling. “I’ll get Gendry to come out and finish this all up for you. He handled most of the work so he can run you through everything before you go.” 

“Gendry?” Arya repeated, blinking, “Okay.” 

Tobho smiled again and nodded before disappearing, leaving a bemused Meera to look at Arya as she took out her purse. 

“Small world, eh?” 

“Small world, my arse. Let me guess, Davos recommended this place?” 

“Arya Stark.” 

Arya frowned, looking up at the sound of the familiar voice, and instantly feeling like the biggest idiot in Westeros. 

Because there he was. 

Covered head to toe in grease, standing in the doorway with a holey rag in his hand, was the Bull. He’d shorn his head of all but a few inches of hair, yet he was still recognisable for the bright blue eyes and the hint of tattoo peeking out from his shirt. The pictures he’d sent her hadn’t lied; he was still very much capable of making her feel uncomfortably breathless. 

But as breathless as he still made her, she also felt the distinct clicking of pieces into place. 

“Gendry.” She said, “Gendry Seaworth.” 

He stalked closer, seeming even taller than he had all those months earlier, and shook his head. 

“Gendry Waters.” He corrected, stopping where Tobho had been standing not two minutes earlier. When he looked at her, Arya’s blood ran cold, for his eyes had narrowed and he was scowling, “Though I suppose that’s why you’re here? Davos.” 

“What?” Arya asked, “I mean, yeah, he told Meera to bring my car here but-” 

“It doesn’t matter.” He cut her off abruptly and looked down at the paperwork, “Repairs were an easy fix but you need to keep an eye on the air conditioning, the reason it was intermittently working was because the unit itself was freezing when it got too cold. If that starts up again, a more permanent fix will need to be organised.” 

Arya was still staring at him, cheeks flushed and her lips parted, as he punched numbers into a calculator. 

“Total comes to five fifty, cash or card?” 

“Card.” She answered, her tone steadier than she’d anticipated, and kept her eyes down as she paid. 

* * *

The tension was thick as Arya, Meera and Gendry walked out to Arya’s car. The temptation to ask Meera to stay, to help her decode whatever the hell was going on, was strong. But so was the knowledge that the sooner Meera was gone, the sooner she could demand to speak to the other Gendry. 

The nice one who’d spent months complimenting her in ways that didn’t make her skin crawl, the one who had no idea how to initiate conversations and who worked two jobs to keep his head above water. 

The Gendry that Davos had spent near on a year trying to set her up with. 

The bartender who’d flipped her life on its head. 

She couldn’t reconcile any of them with the grump who was standing some feet away, scowling still, ignoring her as if his life depended on it. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Meera murmured, “He looks like he might keel over. Or shit himself.” 

Arya snorted and looked over at him, unsurprised to see him turn away, “No, Meera... It’s fine. You head home.” 

“Arya...” 

“I’ll talk to you later, okay?” She smiled weakly, “Wish me luck.” 

Meera’s eyes were wide as they flicked from her to Gendry, but she nodded stiffly and walked briskly to her car. The second Meera’s car door was closed she heard movement behind her and Gendry had already busied himself with another car. 

Crossing her arms Arya laughed humourlessly. 

“Are you serious right now?” 

“What?” He looked over his shoulder at her, still scowling. 

If she had to drink every time he scowled, she wouldn’t be driving home. 

“That’s it? We find out that we’re... us, and all you can do is give me the cold shoulder and dive back into work?” 

Gendry blinked, remaining still for a moment before he turned and leaned back against the car’s side. 

“What do you want me to do? Sweep you up and thank the Lord of Light that it’s all come together? Or would you rather I call my Dad and thank him for bringing us together after all?” 

“Oh Gods, are you really that dense?” She stared up at him, “I didn’t set out to meet you that night, if that’s what you’re inferring. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Meera, I’d never have gone to that bar in the first place!” 

His scowl darkened, “There’s a reason I didn’t want to do relationships, _ Arya _. The last time my Dad had a say in things...” 

“Wait, that’s why you’re upset?” Arya’s eyes widened and she laughed, “Oh, that’s gold. Come on, come out and say it.” 

“Did you know?” He hissed finally, “This whole fucking time? Is that why we never exchanged names?” 

Arya groaned, “You think I’d have spent months telling your Dad I wasn’t interested, just to go home and hornily exchange half naked pictures with you? Did you ever stop to wonder, even once, why I mightn’t want to do names and back stories and... feelings? That maybe we’d both entered this with baggage?” 

Gendry’s jaw was clenched so tight Arya wondered if his teeth might shatter, but he said not a word. 

Arya felt like she’d been punched in the gut and she shook her head in disbelief, “I liked you better when the only Bullish thing about you was your name.” 

She spun on her heel and walked to her car without faltering, even as her eyes welled with tears. By the time she was behind the wheel and backing up, Gendry’s shoulders had slumped and he was watching her regretfully. 

She didn’t see. 

She didn’t care. 

Arya just wanted to go home. 

* * *

Meera had texted her, multiple times, by the time she dumped her bag onto her bed and sank down onto the end of it. Her eyes stung and when the tears spilled over, there was no stopping them. 

* * *

For a week she was upset. She'd spend her days at work, mindlessly carrying out the tasks Davos gave her, all as he eyed her cautiously. 

If Gendry had told his father, he said not a word, and for that Arya was grateful. 

At night, she'd go home, ignoring Harry and Lommy's silent glances at one another as she ate and went to bed. 

* * *

It took a turn for the worse when Sansa was forced to intervene. 

**Sansa: **call Dad, he's worried. 

**Arya: **I feel like everytime I call him it's because I've fucked up

**Sansa: **that's not true. 

**Sansa: **besides, if we can't talk to them about fucking up, who can we talk to?

* * *

“Little wolf.” 

She’d been lazy in not calling and she already knew it when Sansa had messaged her. But, the voice on the other end of the call wasn’t scolding her and she regretted having withdrawn all the more. 

“Dad. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be. We all have those sorts of days, it’s fine.” Ned Stark always sounded tired now. His back had given out some two years into moving up to King’s Landing, leaving a college aged Sansa and Arya to fend for themselves as he moved back home. 

Between being so far from Jon and seeing her father pack up and leave so soon, she’d relied on her Ned Dayne even more heavily. It made her regret caring, regret giving another person space in her heart. She really should've learnt by now. 

“It’s not, Dad.” She said quietly, “Pack is pack. I need to remember that and stop pretending otherwise.” 

“Arya.” His tone strengthened, “Loyalty is no reason to extricate yourself from other people.” 

“Why not? I feel like...” Arya’s eyes welled up and she blinked the tears away, “I feel like a burden to everyone, even you. Maybe it’s better that I just leave it alone.” 

“You couldn’t be a burden if you tried.” Ned’s voice was sharp and Arya swallowed, “I don’t know what has you so down, little wolf. What I do know is that love can go one of two ways.” 

“Dad...” 

“It’s either worth running after or it’s best let go.” 

Arya closed her eyes, “But, how do I know which way to go?” 

“You don’t. You just trust you’ll land on your feet no matter what.” Ned said softly, “Or, you trust those around you to help if you don’t.” 

* * *

After that, she was just angry. 

* * *

**Sansa: **so, where's the body and what time would you like me to come by to dispose of it?

**Arya: **the more you talk about it, the more I'm thinking you might have the right idea

**Bran: **who're we burying?

**Rickon: **arya's boyfriend

**Arya: **he was not my boyfriend, Rick

**Rickon: **uh huh

**Rickon: **just like Robb totally wasn't dating Jeyne and now look at them

**Arya:** i s2g

**Sansa: **shut up Rick

**Bran: **Arya, if it's any consolation, you've suffered worse and gotten through it

**Arya: **finally a voice of reason

**Bran: **I mean, our ancestors survived wars and I'm pretty sure you saved all of our asses one time

**Arya: **wait, Rick, come back

**Bran: **i'm so wounded

**Robb: **can you all shut up, it's 1am

**Sansa: **surprised you can read all of this without your glasses, old man

**Robb: **go to bed all of you. especially you Rick, you have school tomorrow

**Rickon: **y'all are fucked when it's holidays

**Arya: **be glad mum isn't here, she'd kill you for swearing

**Rick: **who do you think taught me to swear

**Sansa: **well i didn't see that coming

**Bran: **I did

**Arya: **bran for fucks sake

**Robb: **goodnight children, SLEEP RICKON

**Rickon: **good night bitches, GO TO SLEEP ROBB

* * *

**Sansa: **well now that the children are gone

**Arya: **I'm fine, if that's what you're asking

**Sansa: **are you? 

**Arya: **I am fine. just trying to keep busy until everyone's here and I can relax

**Sansa: **relax? Christmas and relaxation aren't exactly co-existing states in our family, you know that

**Arya: **look, so long as the food and drink is provided I'll be fine

**Sansa: **lmfao, you say that now

**Arya: **who's mum staying with again?

**Sansa: **fuck off

**Sansa: **i meant it though, when and where do you need me to deal with fuckface

**Arya: **Sansa! Language!

**Arya: **but i meant it too. I'm fine. annoyed. angry. at him and myself

**Sansa: **why at yourself?

**Arya: **because I told myself rules would mean not getting attached and I went and did it anyway

**Arya: **and because I really liked him and he's a dick

**Arya: **because something Dad said is bugging me and I think he's right

**Sansa: **Dad's not always right

**Sansa: **you've gotta trust yourself on this one

* * *

It was a week out from Christmas when Davos finally caved. He’d been lurking by her desk for the better part of ten minutes, pretending to look through papers, looking out the window with his hands clasped behind his back. He was as close to jumping out of his skin as she’d ever seen him. 

The anger had dissipated a few days earlier when Ned had reached out, apologising for the way he’d handled things. Arya had accepted the apology and congratulated him on his engagement. 

They weren’t friends, but Arya didn’t want to enter the new year resentfully. 

That meant attacking things head on. 

Even if it meant terribly awkward conversations with her boss. 

“Davos.” Arya sighed, “I can hear you overthinking from here.” 

He spun on his heels in a second, eyes wide and watery as he moved closer. 

“I'm so sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry for.” She smiled slightly and tilting her chin to his favourite chair, pulling her legs up to cross them. He dragged it over without hesitation and sank down, a frown deepening the lines that made up his face. 

“Are you sure? Because the party is already organised and I can’t go adding more mess to it all.” 

“Wait, what?” Arya looked at him and raised an eyebrow, “You’re in a state because of the party?” 

“Yes, what else?” 

He hadn’t said a word. 

Arya wasn’t sure whether or not to take it as a good sign, but she was taking it nonetheless. 

* * *

The first person Arya messaged was Jon. She kept it as short and sweet as the rest.

**Arya: **As someone who hasn't a romantic bone in your body, can I ask you something?

**Jon: **How dare you, I'm very romantic

**Arya:** Need I remind you of formal and a particularly enamoured redhead?

**Jon: **say no more

**Jon: **Please

* * *

Next came Sansa. 

**Arya: **Please help me

**Sansa: **thought you'd never ask

* * *

By the time Arya thought to text her Dad, she was buzzing. 

**Arya: **I'm running after it

**Dad: **Best of luck, little wolf xo Mum & Dad

* * *

Finally, awaiting the enthusastic reply she was sure to recieve, Arya texted the very person who'd started it all. 

** Arya: **I know you’re already on holidays but I wanted to tell you I’m going all in 

** Meera: **what?! Wait??! 

** Meera: **WHEN 

* * *

On a Saturday night, Arya stared at herself in Sansa’s mirror and grimaced. The dress was a bit much, at least where her tastes were concerned. It dipped low at the bust and had no back, the sheer fabric of the skirt catching the light and shimmering as it reached her ankles. 

It was gorgeous. 

But it was Sansa through and through. 

“You sure blue was the way to go?” She asked, turning this way and that in an effort to discern whether or not she’d made the right choice. 

“Don’t like it?” Sansa met her gaze and frowned, “Sorry.” 

“It’s not your fault.” Arya sighed, returning to the bed and running her hand along the pile of clothes Sansa had dragged from her wardrobe. “I just feel nervous, I guess. About all of this...” 

“I think you’re been very brave.” 

“I think I’m being stupid.” She laughed, “He mightn’t even be there and if he is, what if he refuses to talk to me still?” 

“Then it’s his fucking loss.” 

“I swear you’re worse than me nowadays.” Arya tutted playfully and received a sharp poke to her side, “This green is nice.” She pulled a skirt out from the pile and pursed her lips, “Really nice.” 

Sansa’s brows rose and she looked at the skirt, “You like the green?” 

“Yeah, why?” 

“Wait here.” Sansa grinned and backed out of the room, before Arya could say a word. 

She waited for Sansa to return and when she did, she had a garment bag in hand. 

“Gilly has had this _ forever _ and she’s been dying to get rid of it.” She explained, “If you don’t like it, that’s fine. But it’ll just sit there either way.” 

Arya took the bag hesitantly and pulled the zip down, revealing a dark green dress that made her beam. 

“Sansa, this is perfect.” 

* * *

The car ride to the event hall was short, but Sansa spent the duration of it gushing over Arya’s hair and her makeup – both of which she’d done. Her eyes had never been so perfectly smoky, nor had she ever wanted to touch her hair so bad. She had to give Sansa that. 

Sansa pulled the car into a parking space and turned it off, shifting in her seat to face Arya suddenly. 

“Now, before you go in.” She said, “I want to say something without you teasing me for being sappy and telling me to quit it. Please?” 

Arya eyed her sister, smoothing her hands nervously over her dress before, “Okay. Go for it.” 

“I know that I’m probably the last person you wanted to be stuck here with back when Dad went home. Hells, I know that you were the last person I wanted to be stuck with.” 

“Stating the freaking obvious, Sans.” Arya snorted. 

“Anyway.” Sansa grinned, her eyes twinkling as she looked out the windshield, her cheeks pink. “I’m very glad it worked out this way now. I love spending time with you and I hope that we can keep doing it, even after all of this. And even if he is a complete idiot about it all, you’ve done what I could never do.” 

“What’s that?” 

“Try again.” 

* * *

When Arya walked into the event hall, crumpled invitation in hand, she felt her nerves catch up – in the sweaty hands that curled into fists before relaxing, the way her heart raced, the way she looked around for any sign of him. 

“Arya!” 

She turned to see Davos, Marya on his arm, beaming at her. 

“I thought you weren’t coming.” He pulled her into a one-armed hug and squeezed as best he could. 

“Well, my family don’t start arriving until tomorrow and I couldn’t very well miss this. Not after how much we put into it.” She teased, pulling away to beam at Marya. “Besides, I’d be missing out on quality Marya time too!” 

Marya laughed and leaned in to press a kiss to Arya’s cheek, “Darling, you’ve very well saved our rears this year. If you’d begged out of tonight, nobody would’ve blamed you.” 

Arya shook her head and grinned, “Admittedly there are also ulterior motives to my being here.” 

“Are there?” Davos’ brows knitted, “What might they be?” 

“Depending on how it goes,” Arya looked over their shoulders and smiled, “I’ll let you know. Is Gendry here?” 

“Gendry?” Marya blinked, “Yes, he’s here.” 

"Arya?” 

“Where is he?” Arya asked, “I will explain later, I promise.” 

“He’s over by the bar.” 

Davos looked confused as Arya patted him on the arm and bid them a good night, taking up the nearest glass of champagne and draining it in one sip. The lights danced, casting her in shades of blue and purple as she wove her way through her co-workers. She knew Meera had her obligations back home, could scarcely blame her for wanting time off after the work year she’d had, but knowing she wasn’t there to cheer her on didn’t help her nerves. 

Especially not when Arya’s eyes landed on a broad pair of shoulders by the bar, covered by a suit jacket that seemed a shade too tight. 

Not that she could, or would, complain. 

* * *

It wasn’t like the movies. 

Nothing felt like it was in slow motion and she didn’t hear the swell of a romantic score in the background. She didn’t feel like fireworks were about to explode, instead Arya was a tad worried she was going to vomit. 

But the lack of cinematic romanticism didn’t stop her from walking determinedly his way, her chin high and her shoulders back – just as her mother had taught her. 

* * *

The music wasn’t loud and for that Arya thanked the largely older guests, so when she approached, he shifted. 

“Gendry.” 

It still felt weird to say his name, but in a good way. Now that the anger and sadness had waned, she found that she liked it. Gendry suited him. 

He looked up, brows knitted in much the same way Davos’ had been, and met her gaze. His shoulders immediately squared and he straightened up, one large hand falling from where it had been fiddling with his cuff. 

“Hey.” He breathed out, lips parted as he looked her over, “You look...” 

Arya smiled brightly as his eyes dragged back up to her face at a snail’s pace, “Do feel free to finish that sentence.” 

Gendry let out a surprised laugh and shook his head, before he cleared his throat. 

“Want to find somewhere to talk?” 

“I’d love that.” 

* * *

They found themselves on a balcony overseeing King’s Landing, in all of its lit-up beauty. Arya rarely took the time to appreciate where she’d ended up, hardly had the time to pause and do it now, but she made a note to do so a little more in the future. The cool air felt nice, after one glass of bubbles her face already felt warm and she doubted that this conversation would make it any better - no matter how it went. 

“I know you probably have a thousand things to say to me.” Arya said after another moment of silence. “Gods know I do.” 

“I do. But I feel like I said enough last time we spoke.” Gendry rubbed the back of his neck, looking especially awkward from where he stood against the railing beside her. “I’m not good at this. Fuck, you know how I text. It’s essentially that with more mumbling and less time to think about what won’t make me look like an idiot.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” Arya grinned at him, to which he smiled nervously. 

“Best believe it.” 

Arya laughed a little before closing her eyes, “I think, if you’re okay with it, I want to tell you everything that I should’ve in your shop.” 

“Go for it.” He said quietly. 

Pushing away from the railing she turned to face him, flushing as she found his eyes focused intently on her face. His hands moved from the railing and he gestured her on, smiling softly. The dimples in his cheek were on full display and his eyes caught the lights from inside, making them seem even more blue. 

She was more than halfway in love with him. 

“I’m Arya Stark.” She said, relieved to hear that her voice was steady even as his eyes crinkled with the size of his smile, “I’m twenty-four and I work for your Dad. I love my family, but spend not nearly enough time with them, and I’ve spent the better part of the year trying to put myself back together after my boyfriend left me. I either overshare or I hide every last bit of myself away, in hopes of what, I’m not sure.” 

He swallowed, his throat bobbing visibly, but he didn’t go to interrupt. He merely nodded jerkily as she wrung her hands. 

“I know that you’re funny and kind, but also impossibly grumpy and it’s so easy to make you cross. You have a stubborn need to be right, which I suppose is why we get along so well. You’re a devoted son, a fantastic brother, and I doubt there’s a dorkier uncle or cousin out there.” 

Gendry blinked, before a grin broke out on his face and he ducked his head to avoid her gaze. 

“I know that despite taking nearly a whole year to realise that you, Gendry, are in fact as good as Davos said you are... I wouldn’t change all those months for anything. Because I got to know both sides of you, in tandem, and fell for all of you without even knowing it.” 

There was a pause – in which Arya looked at her feet. 

“You fell for me?” Gendry’s lips parted and he looked at her, the tips of his ears darkening. 

“I did. I have.” Arya said easily, “At first I ignored it because I was scared. I wasn’t lying when I said my last relationship ended badly, nor am I lying now when I say I haven’t felt the way I feel about you before. You are frustrating and wonderful, in equal measure and it terrifies me.” 

Gendry’s lips twitched and his shoulders relaxed, “I’m frustrating?” 

“Yes, you are. Incredibly so.” 

“Like you can talk. You spent months avoiding Dad’s attempts to set us up, if you had maybe considered it, we could’ve avoided this whole mess!” 

“Oh, because meeting the world’s grumpiest mechanic would’ve totally won me over.” 

“What, prefer the horny bartender?” 

“Marginally so.” 

They looked at each other for a moment, waiting, before Gendry started laughing and grabbed her hand gently. 

“Arya.” He licked across his bottom lip, “I’m stupidly in love with you. But, I’m also terrible at apologies so please bear with me.” 

She pursed her lips in feigned thought, “I’ll try my best.” 

He rolled his eyes affectionately but continued to grin, a sight that Arya wasn’t sure she could ever tire of. 

“I’ve been a complete arse. I overreacted and refused to hear you out, then when Dad was completely oblivious to what had gone on, I was too damn embarrassed to say anything.” 

“So, you ghosted me. Again.” 

Gendry’s face flushed with colour and he scuffed his shoe against the floor, “Maybe.” 

“Is that going to become a thing with us?” 

His eyes widened, “I hope not.” 

“Neither.” She tugged him closer and pushed up on her tiptoes, “Because it’d be a terrible shame.” 

Then she kissed him, her hand moving to cup the back of his head as his hand settled on her hip, squeezing gently. When they finally pulled away, it was for breath, and when they grinned at one another it was because Arya's lipstick was smeared across Gendry's mouth. 

* * *

“Hey, you’ve already done a cracker!” Rickon bellowed from the other end of the table as Bran rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah and I’m doing another!” 

“Arya, please tell me they bicker less now than they did when you were growing up.” Jojen said from where he sat with an arm around Bran’s shoulders. 

“Jury’s out on that one, sadly.” Arya rolled her eyes and laughed as Bran glared half-heartedly, “Look, I heard you two last night. Good thing my roommates went off to visit their own families or I’d have had a mutiny on my hands.” 

“We were out for a few hours and they were still arguing when we came back.” Jon sighed, rubbing at his temples. 

“Jon, you do not have the whole story.” Bran interjected. 

“Not sure I want it, mate.” 

The table was overflowing with food already, yet Catelyn had a platter of crackers and cheese in hand, directing Sansa as she moved plates around to accommodate. Ned had leaned in to steal a wedge of cheese, despite Catelyn’s protests, and Arya watched on in amusement as her parents bickered light-heartedly. 

“When’s your beau getting here, Arya?” Jon’s redheaded friend Tormund waggled his eyebrows as he leaned across the table, “I wasn’t quite done quizzing him on Northern traditions after the Sept.” 

“Gendry should be arriving any minute.” Arya didn’t stifle the pleased grin the thought brought out, instead choosing to look at the clock, “Then you can quiz him all you’d like. Though, I’ve a feeling you’ll be fighting for time with Dad. He thinks Gendry’s pick for the Westeros cup is shite and won’t let him hear the end of it.” 

“Language, Arya.” Sansa smirked, sitting down between Tormund and their mother, “There are children at the table.” 

“Unborn children.” Jeyne corrected, a wide smile on her face as she rubbed her bump affectionately. Robb was watching on with a dopey grin on his face and Arya didn’t know whether to be happy for them, or immensely glad that they’d elected to stay in a hotel. 

She could only deal with so much lovesickness at once. Her own being about as far as her tolerance stretched. 

As if timed, the doorbell rang and she hopped up eagerly, just as Rickon started shouting at Bran again. Sansa’s apartment was huge, but even it had been overrun with luggage and presents, leaving Arya to leap and sidestep piles of her family’s things before she reached the front door. 

Gendry was waiting patiently on the other side, a stack of poorly wrapped parcels in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. 

“Merry Christmas, Arry.” He grinned, swooping in to kiss her eagerly, but she ducked away to take the presents from his grasp. 

“Merry Christmas, Gendry.” She replied, giving him a quick peck as a compromise. She didn’t miss the jut of his bottom lip and winked, tilting her head back in the direction of the dining room, “There’s been no end of questions as to when you’d be arriving.” 

“Glad somebody missed me.” Gendry teased in return, switching the wine from one hand to the other so he could grasp Arya’s free one. 

She rolled her eyes but pulled him closer, “Very funny, Mr. Waters. Keep that up and you’ll be sleeping on the couch.” 

“I have a feeling Rickon wouldn’t like sharing it very much.” 

“You’d be right.” 


	3. epilogue: fireworks ain't got nothing on you

** (Roughly) One Year Later.  **

Arya unzipped her jeans and let out a sigh of relief, that which turned into a shiver as Gendry ran his hands along her stomach. 

“Happy New Year’s Eve, Arry.” He murmured into her ear before turning to kiss her hair. 

“Yeah, yeah. You too.” She mumbled right back, grinning as he reached back to squeeze her ass. 

They still had a way to go with unpacking, but for the most part, their apartment felt like home. It’d been a week of this, returning home to  _ their  _ bed, changing into  _ their  _ clothes from  _ their  _ closet. Arya felt exhausted, right down to her bones, but in the best way possible. 

Gendry toyed with the hem of her shirt, distractedly, as he tended to do when thinking. He’d been doing that a lot lately, staring off into the distance as they sat on the couch, humming to himself as he cooked dinner. Arya turned and held her hand up to his face, thumb smoothing over his cheek softly. 

“We good?”

He smiled brightly and nodded, leaning in to kiss her slowly, his tongue taking its time to drag across her bottom lip. They shed clothes as they moved to the bed, in sync as ever, her hands at his jeans as he undid the clasp of her bra, his lips at her throat as she pushed her hand into his briefs. He sighed into her mouth and she bit down on his bottom lip gently, all before pushing him down onto the bed. 

When it came time for the countdown to the New Year, neither noticed. Her phone lit up on the side table as messages flooded in and the clock turned to midnight – to be ignored until the morning. 

Arya was content burying her face in Gendry’s shoulder as he wound his arms around her, happy to doze off as fireworks lit up their window. Gendry was elated to know that unbeknownst to her, his birth mother’s ring sat in the bottom of their dresser. 

**FIN.**


End file.
